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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24709570">oh, since the day i saw you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtforpedro/pseuds/vtforpedro'>vtforpedro</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Alternate Universe - No Gellert Grindelwald, Attempted Murder, Brief Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Credence Barebone Learning Magic, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Healing, M/M, Mary Lou Barebone is Her Own Warning, No obscurus, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, Suicidal Thoughts, Workaholic Original Percival Graves, briefly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:49:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>47,855</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24709570</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtforpedro/pseuds/vtforpedro</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Percival Graves and Credence Barebone follow the sun on the long journey home.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>118</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Graves reads through a file that was handed to him by Jauncey two or so hours ago, his eyes dry and tired. He occasionally rubs them, but when he looks at the clock and sees that it’s half-past eleven, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s done enough work for the day.<br/><br/>Jauncey and Wilkinson have been following an underground network of dark wizards, slowly building in size, their crimes amateurish still, petty and not worth more than a fine. But that will change if they find the right leadership, so his department is keeping a close eye on them and their contacts in the outside wizarding world.<br/><br/>One day they will have to conduct a raid and arrest people, but he hopes they wait until after the Quidditch World Cup in three months. But dark wizards take advantage of those situations, he knows, and has already experienced numerous headaches regarding the Cup and his department. Aurors are always at large events, but this will be even larger than usual, which means keeping it quiet so there’s no panic. The public doesn’t need to know Aurors walk among them.<br/><br/>Graves is exhausted by things that have yet to even happen, so he decides to call it a night, thinking about the glass of whiskey waiting at home for him.<br/><br/>He’s putting away the last few files that were littering his desk when there’s a knock on his office door. He gestures at it and it opens and Tina Goldstein walks in, her nose nearly touching the paper she’s reading.<br/><br/>“Not tonight, Goldstein,” Graves says. “I have a hot date waiting for me.”<br/><br/>“Pure Malt, sir?”<br/><br/>“That’s right.”<br/><br/>“But sir…” Tina trails off and frowns. “I can’t make heads or tails of this. It just came in from the Improper Use of Magic office.”<br/><br/>“Not my department,” Graves groans. “Nor is it yours.”<br/><br/>Tina sighs as she looks up at him finally. “I know it’s not, but they sent it to us because it doesn’t make sense.”<br/><br/>“What in Merlin’s name doesn’t make sense about it?”<br/><br/>“It’s been indicated that there was a powerful surge of magic at the address, but it couldn’t pin down the spell used.”<br/><br/>“Sounds like underage magic to me.”<br/><br/>“That’s the thing, sir, there are no witches or wizards at that address,” Tina says. “And it did detect it as underage magic, but it also detected it as advanced wandwork. But there are no wands registered there. It’s a no-maj household.”<br/><br/>Graves frowns as he peers at Goldstein, his attention unfortunately snared. He holds out his hand and she gives him the letter from upstairs and he reads through it, his frown deepening.<br/><br/>The words <em> possible use of damaging curse, but could not confirm, </em> are what catches his attention the most.<br/><br/>“Are they sending anyone?”<br/><br/>“That’s why they gave it to me. Mister Buckthorn thinks it might be Auror business.”<br/><br/>Graves scrubs a hand over his face. “He might be right,” he says with a sigh. He looks at the address again and raises an eyebrow as he glances at Tina. “Isn’t this that no-maj church?”<br/><br/>“The Second Salemers church, yes, sir,” Tina says. “I’ve been there a few times myself. There are three children that belong to that… woman. But two are too old for underage magic. The youngest, though, maybe, but advanced curse magic?”<br/><br/>“You said the woman that runs the church is particularly unpleasant?”<br/><br/>“Mary Lou Barebone. If I believed in the devil, sir, I’d say she was him.”<br/><br/>Graves looks at Tina for a while and she looks back at him, and he knows she is thinking what he is. “Fuck,” he says and grabs his coat off the back of his chair as Tina hurries out of his office.<br/><br/>There are the rare incidents of underage magic manifesting as curses against people who are hurting them and if Barebone is not injured herself, a child just might be.<br/><br/>When he strides out of his office, the door behind him bangs shut, locking, and wakes up his half-asleep Auror team. There are only five at work beyond Tina and Graves himself but they sit up straight when they get a good look at him.<br/><br/>“Abagnale, Barrows, with me,” Graves says as he strides out of the department, Tina at his heels. He briefs them as they walk and take the lift down to the lobby.<br/><br/>“How dangerous is the no-maj?”<br/><br/>“It’s hard to know,” Tina says. “But I get the feeling she’s capable of more damage than she looks. None of those kids seem well-adjusted.”<br/><br/>“How old?” Graves asks.<br/><br/>“The eldest is nineteen. His name is Credence,” Tina says with a frown. “He seems to be the worst off. The middle girl, Chastity, she’s fifteen. Seems to be the most like her mother. And the youngest, Modesty, is eight.”<br/><br/>“Charming names,” Barrows says dryly.<br/><br/>“They’re all adopted,” Tina says sourly. “Probably to build her witch-hunting army. Poor kids.”<br/><br/>They walk out into the cold early November night and choose the alley across the way from the church, Apparating into it. Graves steps onto the sidewalk and looks up and down the street before he gestures for them to follow.<br/><br/>They’ve had to do this before, approach a no-maj household to investigate potential wizarding crimes, but it’s rare. He’s never seen the Improper Use of Magic office create a report that hasn’t made sense however. It’s so finely tuned to each underage wizard’s wand or to small bursts of magic from children under the age of eleven. They are rarely powerful enough to even register and if they are, they’re investigated merely to ensure the Statute of Secrecy is upheld, rather than for any punishment.<br/><br/>The church is dark outside and he can only see the light of a lowly lit lamp inside. The windows upstairs are dark. He walks to the door with his Aurors, not knowing what to expect, but preparing for the worst.<br/><br/>Graves listens first, but he hears no voices inside. Once he’s shared a look with his Aurors, he knocks firmly on the door. Tina pulls her hat down further over her face.<br/><br/>There’s movement inside, muffled and far away, but the door does not open until he pounds on it again.<br/><br/>The woman that opens it has a severe haircut, as cutting as she is, he suspects, and Graves knows this must be Mary Lou Barebone. She’s dressed in a nightgown and blinks like she’s trying to get sleep out of her eyes, but Graves can see through the act.<br/><br/>If she had been cursed, she’s recovered from it.<br/><br/>“Miss Barebone,” Graves says. “We’re with the local police department. We were alerted to a possible disturbance at this residence.”<br/><br/>Mary Lou’s eyebrows slowly raise as she looks warily between them, dressed nothing like police officers, but she won’t call his bluff. “A disturbance?” she asks with an attempt at confusion. “Oh, no. My children and I have been asleep. We heard nothing nearby either.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles. “Of course,” he says. “But we wouldn’t be doing our due diligence if we didn’t investigate. I hate to disturb your family, but may we take a look inside?”<br/><br/>For a brief moment, Mary Lou seems like she will say no, a veil of anger falling over her eyes. But it’s gone between one blink and the next and she nods graciously. Perhaps she knows they won’t take no for an answer. “Of course, officers, anything to be of help.”<br/><br/>“Very kind of you, ma’am,” Barrows says.<br/><br/>Mary Lou steps aside and allows them to enter the church. It’s not much of a church, the tables and chairs used for sermons pushed together against one wall, with only one left for the family.<br/><br/>It’s the smell that hits Graves first. She has forgotten it, her nose adapting to it quickly, but it’s cloying and sharp and utterly recognizable. He looks at Tina, who eyes him warily in return.<br/><br/>Blood.<br/><br/>“Abagnale, would you mind going upstairs?” Graves asks. “Try not to disturb the children.”<br/><br/>They have already been disturbed, he knows, when he glances up at the second story, and sees a young girl standing there, dressed in a white nightgown. She’s pale and looks like a ghost as she stares down at them. She looks at Graves as Tina asks Mary Lou to show her the kitchen and any other rooms downstairs.<br/><br/>Graves stares at the girl, knowing the look in her eyes, knowing what it means. She’s holding onto the railing overlooking the church below, but she lifts one finger, pointing upward at the ceiling.<br/><br/>“Barrows,” Graves says. “Assist Goldstein in keeping Barebone occupied.”<br/><br/>“Yes, sir,” Barrows says and walks off after them.<br/><br/>Graves pulls his wand from his pocket and steadily makes his way upstairs. Abagnale has glanced into the rooms there, murmuring something to what is likely the third child, and when he reappears in the hallway, he shakes his head at Graves and holds up one finger.<br/><br/>The eldest is missing then.<br/><br/>Modesty is gazing at him as he approaches her, her eyes falling briefly to the wand in his hand, but she doesn’t seem to be as disturbed by it as he thought she might be, considering what her mother fills her head with.<br/><br/>“Is he hurt or is he going to try to hurt someone else?” Graves asks her quietly.<br/><br/>Modesty purses her lips. “Mama said he may not last the night.”<br/><br/>She says it so matter-of-factly, as if this is expected, and it disturbs Graves more than anything else.<br/><br/>“Did something strange happen tonight?”<br/><br/>Modesty nods. “Mama hit him with his belt a few times. Then there was a red light and she was thrown into the wall across the room and hit her head. I think Credence did it, but he didn’t touch her. She got really mad then.”<br/><br/>“Stay here. Do you understand?” Graves asks her and she nods, not taking her eyes off of him as he walks to the door that he knows leads to the attic.<br/><br/>Graves opens it, the iron scent stronger here, and looks at the small, twisting stairs as he lights his wand. He gestures for Abagnale to stay with the girl and makes his way up into the attic. It would be pitch black without his wand but he still has a hard time seeing into the corners, so he charms a few orbs of light to float into them.<br/><br/>The attic is dusty, not used, but lying on the middle of the floor is Credence Barebone. He’s deathly pale and doesn’t flinch at the light or Graves’ approaching footsteps. Graves sees why a moment later.<br/><br/>Credence has been stabbed with a cross that has been sharpened into a stake. It’s lying near him, sticky with blood, and there’s a larger pool of blood under and around Credence. It was thrust into his stomach, a good way to ensure a slow death, if you know how to do it properly.<br/><br/>He is so pale that for a moment Graves thinks he’s dead, but he sees the shallow rise and fall of his chest and leans down next to him. Graves holds his wand over the wound and chants an incantation he has used far too many times throughout his career.<br/><br/>The blood stops seeping out of the wound, hidden by the nightshirt Credence is in, and the blood he’s lost that hasn’t soaked into the wood or dripped between the boards returns to him, cleansed by the spell. Color returns to Credence, the blue of his lips turning pink, and after another incantation, Graves is reasonably sure that any organ damage has been repaired. He says it once more and looks at the hole in Credence’s shirt, seeing no wound left underneath it.<br/><br/>Graves points his wand at Credence and a soft, red light is emitted from the tip of, falling onto Credence’s chest.<br/><br/>His eyes flutter and it seems to be with great effort that he opens them, if only slightly. He is dazed as he looks at the attic floor and his fingers begin to twitch, but it is a long while before he turns his gaze upward and looks at Graves.<br/><br/>“Are you God?” he asks, disoriented, his voice soft and kind, wounded, and Graves wonders if Seraphina would forgive him, if he disintegrated Mary Lou Barebone where she stood.<br/><br/>“I’m afraid not,” Graves says and puts his hand on Credence’s cheek. It’s cool to the touch, despite the blood that has returned to it. “My name is Percival Graves.”<br/><br/>Credence stares at him, his dark eyes confused, lost, and he has trouble keeping them open. “Mister Graves,” he says quietly. “I had hoped… I wouldn’t wake up here again.”<br/><br/>“You’re not going to anymore, Credence,” Graves says. “Not after this.”<br/><br/>“Where are you taking me?” Credence asks and closes his eyes.<br/><br/>“To the hospital,” Graves says, but he doesn’t know if Credence hears him, as he doesn’t respond.<br/><br/>So he sends his Patronus to MACUSA and St Lyptus’ and waits with Credence, brushing his dark hair back from his forehead. He stays there until he hears Healers enter the church and listens to Mary Lou Barebone’s protests, growing increasingly louder and more aggressive.<br/><br/>Once the Healers have taken over Credence’s care, Graves walks downstairs, passing by Modesty, who is now holding Abagnale’s hand.<br/><br/>“Did you save him?” she asks.<br/><br/>“I did,” Graves says and, when she smiles faintly, he thinks <em> and I’m saving you too. </em><br/><br/>Graves continues downstairs and sees that Goldstein and Barrows have restrained Mary Lou and forced her into a chair. She’s seething, glaring at them all and hissing persecutions, accusing them of witchcraft.<br/><br/>“He has the devil in him,” she says when Graves approaches.<br/><br/>“No, Miss Barebone,” Graves says. “I’m afraid you do.”<br/><br/>Her eyes widen with fury and he flicks his wand at her as she begins to snarl at him and smiles as the Silencing Charm hits her. She looks shocked and then terrified, when no sound comes from her mouth, and Graves takes great pleasure in it.<br/><br/>“She tried to murder him,” Graves says as he looks at Goldstein. “He’s being taken to St Lyptus’ to recover. She was beating him when whatever magic there is in his veins decided to fight back.” Graves hums. “I think that may just put her punishment in my territory.”<br/><br/>“It does, sir,” Tina says soberly. “To MACUSA?”<br/><br/>“Get her out of my sight,” Graves affirms. “She’s to remain silenced until I meet with her again. Take the youngest into Protective Services. The middle one… in a holding cell until we get the full story. Assume she’s innocent for now.”<br/><br/>They nod and Graves watches as Barrows hauls Miss Barebone out of her chair and threatens to stun her when she begins to fight his grasp.<br/><br/>“What were his injuries?” Tina asks Graves quietly.<br/><br/>“She carved a cross into a stake,” Graves says with a grim smile. “Divine punishment, would you say?”<br/><br/>“Divine delusion,” Tina mutters with a sigh. “Permission to spend the night at St Lyptus’, sir?”<br/><br/>Graves nods. “Permission granted. Let me know how he is by morning. I’ll find out how the fuck a nineteen year old wizard slipped under our detection.”<br/><br/>He calls in more Aurors from the office and tells them to take a look around the church before condemning it. Once they begin their work, he Disapparates and goes back to MACUSA, for what he suspects is going to be a very long night.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>Graves merely sits in on the interrogation of the middle child, Chastity, as he knows he is too angry and not in a forgiving mood, let alone that he doesn’t have a particularly gentle touch.<br/><br/>Though Chastity shares much of what her mother believes, it has been fed to her, and the reality is that she’s a frightened fifteen year old girl. She’s a no-maj, no wizarding blood in her, and Graves watches as she cries on and off throughout Abagnale’s questions.<br/><br/>It’s a delicate situation. Her age makes it harder for them to alter her memory and send her on her way, with nowhere to go. He’s reluctant to send her back to an orphanage with no memories of Mary Lou or her adopted siblings. No-majs are quick to send people, especially children, off to certain types of institutes, if they suspect strangeness of the mind. But her hate, carefully crafted by her mother, makes her a danger for the wizarding world.<br/><br/>Throwing her in a cell in a wizarding prison isn’t an option either, as she has only committed the crime of silence, and he will not have a young girl that can be taught better put somewhere that will likely only reinforce her beliefs.<br/><br/>She admits she thinks Credence’s punishments can be harsh but she continually names him wicked and makes excuses for her mother.<br/><br/>But she’s been abused as much as Credence, even if she doesn’t see it. So he orders her to St Lyptus’ as well, to be monitored, while he waits to speak with Seraphina about her.<br/><br/>The youngest Barebone, Modesty, is being handled by Protective Services, and he trusts them to treat her gently and with respect, as they are known for.<br/><br/>It’s Mary Lou Barebone’s interrogation that he heads up personally. The way she glares at him when he sits across from her is amusing and unsettling both. These radicalized no-majs aren’t to be trifled with, he knows, but the urge to give her a taste of her own brand of healing boils in his blood.<br/><br/>“I’m going to remove the Silencing Charm,” he says as he observes her. “I will gladly place it back on you if you speak out of turn. You might know how that goes.”<br/><br/>She narrows her eyes at him but doesn’t say anything when he removes the charm.<br/><br/>“Tell me how you’re aware of the wizarding world.”<br/><br/>Mary Lou does not answer immediately. She licks her lips, a nervous gesture, looking between him and Fontaine, who stands in the corner, angrier than Graves perhaps, for being called out of bed.<br/><br/>“That boy,” she begins, “has always been strange.”<br/><br/>“You’ve seen him perform magic,” Graves infers.<br/><br/>“It began shortly after I adopted him.”<br/><br/>“How old was he?”<br/><br/>She doesn’t answer until he raises his eyebrows. “He was seven.”<br/><br/>“It’s not uncommon for young witches or wizards to test the boundaries of their magic, often without knowing they’re doing it,” Graves says. “A cause of joy for most parents in our world.”<br/><br/>“Joy,” Mary Lou laughs hollowly. “A disciple of the devil himself had come to live in my home.”<br/><br/>Graves ignores her. “You received a visit you weren’t prepared for five years later.”<br/><br/>She raises her eyebrows, but nods shortly. “They confirmed for me what he was when they handed me that <em> letter,” </em> she says, spitting the word like it’s cursed.<br/><br/>“You told them he was dead.”<br/><br/>“I would have thought your kind would make it harder to believe.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he peers at her. “Did you think beating it out of him would work?”<br/><br/>“Does a beating not suppress the wicked desires in men and women? A man that lies with another man? A girl who entertains men before she is married?”<br/><br/>Fontaine snorts and Graves smirks. The look in her eyes tells him she would like nothing more than to reach across the table and strangle the life out of him. Bury him, just like she would have buried Credence.<br/><br/>“Miss Barebone, I know your type,” Graves says. “Some of you believe what comes of your mouths. Others don’t, but like the power that comes with it. You’re in the latter group. You enjoy watching people suffer. You enjoy hurting children. It wouldn’t have mattered if that boy was a wizard or not. You would have found reason to beat him anyway.”<br/><br/>She says nothing, only stares stonily at him.<br/><br/>“That makes you dangerous. In and out of our world,” Graves says. “But I understand it comes from something broken inside of you. You were moulded the way you’ve attempted to mould your children.”<br/><br/>“And so you will reach out, the right hand of the Devil, and strike me down.”<br/><br/>Graves frowns. “No-majs do have a propensity for the dramatic,” he says and smiles as she glares at him. “We have no interest in taking your life. Our only interest is that you don’t try to take someone else’s. Not ever again. We have many ways of making sure that doesn’t happen. None will be pleasant for you.”<br/><br/>“You think I fear torture?”<br/><br/>“Dramatics,” Graves sighs as he looks at Fontaine, who shakes his head in disbelief. “No, Miss Barebone, I think you fear the unknown. The unknown is what you will receive.”<br/><br/>He stands and walks to the door, clapping Fontaine on the shoulder. “Put her downstairs. Separated from the others,” he says. “I’ll be in my office getting a report ready for Seraphina.”<br/><br/>Graves leaves then and knows that it will not be the last time he sees Mary Lou Barebone. He’s eager for that last visit, for putting her behind him, behind her children, so they can begin to heal.<br/><br/>He writes the report of what has occurred throughout the night, adding Tina’s report of the church to date, and drinks numerous cups of strongly brewed coffee to get through it. It won’t be the last time he spends an unexpected night at the office and he thanks adrenaline and Arengtinian coffee for getting him through them.<br/><br/>Seraphina enters his office shortly after six-thirty and her disapproving frown makes him smile. She never likes being summoned to his office the moment she walks into MACUSA because it’s never for a good reason. But she folds herself into the chair across from his and he hands her the file as he begins to speak about it.<br/><br/>She’s quiet through most of what he has to say, her frown deepening, and only sighs when he finishes explaining how the interrogation of Barebone went.<br/><br/>“What a fine way to start a Friday,” she says and looks at him. “You haven’t slept at all.”<br/><br/>“Well, no,” Graves says and gestures at the coffee carafe. “But I’m half caffeine right now.”<br/><br/>Seraphina smiles and shakes her head. “How do you plan on handling the no-maj?”<br/><br/>Graves looks up at the ceiling, twisting back and forth in his chair, before he looks at her again. “My instinct is to Obliviate what she knows about the wizarding world. Her children. The church.”<br/><br/>“That spans many years.”<br/><br/>“It does,” he agrees. “Placing her in a no-maj hospital as a found wanderer with amnesia and violent tendencies might be enough to keep her off the streets.”<br/><br/>Seraphina peers at him. “They’ll place her in a different sort of hospital.”<br/><br/>“Yes.”<br/><br/>“Cruelty punished with cruelty,” Sera says with a soft sigh. “I wonder how Mister Barebone might feel about it.”<br/><br/>Graves raises his eyebrows. “You think he’s in any place to give that sort of answer? After what she did to him?”<br/><br/>“I don’t know Mister Barebone,” Sera says carefully, “but Goldstein’s report indicates he’s a kind young man with a gentle nature.”<br/><br/>“And his mother tried to murder him by stabbing him with the symbol of Christ,” Graves says. “That sort of thing changes people.”<br/><br/>“True,” Sera says. “But I want to find out either way. Have Goldstein ask him, the next time she visits St Lyptus’, or whenever she deems him prepared to answer the question.” She frowns. “Or perhaps you should be the one to ask him.”<br/><br/>Graves scoffs. “Goldstein is more than capable. I have my hands full enough here.”<br/><br/>She sends him an unimpressed frown. “What about the other two?”<br/><br/>“I haven’t heard anything about the youngest yet. The middle girl… she’s been as abused as the other two. Protective Services can take over, as far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing criminal there. I’ll sign off on whatever they choose to do.”<br/><br/>Sera nods. “Very well,” she says and rises from the chair. “Are you waiting on Goldstein?”<br/><br/>“Yes. Why?”<br/><br/>“Go home after, Percy. You aren’t in any shape to work another full day. Come in late tomorrow, if you can stand it.”<br/><br/>“You know I can’t,” he says, even as he yawns. “I’ll go home after she’s briefed me,” he adds, when she raises her eyebrows. “Satisfied?”<br/><br/>“Never,” Sera says dryly. “Send Goldstein home as well. Tomorrow, send her to me. I wish to know how he is. Percy.”<br/><br/>“Sera,” Graves says as he watches her go.<br/><br/>He scrubs at his eyes and opens the file again, flipping through the report he has written, adding any information that comes to mind. It takes another four cups of coffee before Goldstein finally enters his office, sometime around noon, when he’s stuffing a cold cut sandwich into his mouth.<br/><br/>“Finally,” he grouses after he’s swallowed.<br/><br/>Tina sighs as she sits down, looking as tired as he feels. “They weren’t comfortable waking him until three hours ago. He needed more blood and the rest, though the Healers did mention you did an excellent job putting him back together,” she says as she rubs her eyes. “They’re a bit worried about his mind.”<br/><br/>“I think we all are,” Graves says. “How was he?”<br/><br/>She purses her lips and looks uncharacteristically venomous for a moment. It bleeds from her and she sighs. “He remarked that he was alive when he woke up, like it was a surprise. He thought he saw God,” she says. “And he told me he wished he had, because it would be better than living in this cruel world.”<br/><br/>Graves isn’t entirely surprised to hear it, but it still stings anyway. He can’t imagine the abuse Credence has suffered for the majority of his life. Can’t imagine how much it increased when Mary Lou found out he was a wizard. He thinks about being one of the few wizards allowed to use Unforgivable Curses, but decides that’s too good for her anyway.<br/><br/>“And what did you tell him?”<br/><br/>“I told him that he’s never going to be with that woman again. That the world of cruelty that he knows ended last night and he’s woken up into a better one. Into the one he belongs. He seemed relieved, in a way, when I told him he was a wizard, but then he cried about it for twenty minutes after, because it meant he was wicked,” Tina says, her left eye twitching. “Took an hour to convince him that no one he had seen, not me, not you, not any of the Healers, are wicked. That we only want to help him and his sisters.”<br/><br/>“It’s going to take a long time to heal, no matter what anyone tells him,” Graves says slowly. “How long do they want to keep him there?”<br/><br/>“Until they’re sure he won’t try to hurt himself when he leaves,” Tina mumbles, looking down at her lap.<br/><br/>Graves nods. “Don’t worry, Goldstein, he’ll be supported by MACUSA through it all. We won’t throw him out with no preparation for living in our world. Seraphina will approve of a stipend, get him an apartment, a tutor, all of it. It might be wise to add the stipulation that he continues to visit a Healer throughout it if he accepts our aid.”<br/><br/>“I think that is wise, sir,” Tina says with a relieved sigh. “I do worry about him living alone though. It’s awful quiet, living all on your own.”<br/><br/>Graves knows that, but it became something he desired at one point. It may be far too early for that to be true for Credence however. He puts his hands behind his head and eyes her.<br/><br/>“You have someone in mind.”<br/><br/>Tina’s cheeks turn pink. “Well… yes,” she says. “It’s just that… it feels cruel, like a lie, but if he came to live with my sister and I, Queenie could make sure he’s not unstable in between visits with his Healer.”<br/><br/>“Are you up for that responsibility? Is your sister?”<br/><br/>“You know Queenie’s nature,” Tina says. “Mine. I think we could be good for him, but I do know it’s a lot to take on. I’m willing to.”<br/><br/>“I’ll have Abernathy send up paperwork for an extended leave so your sister still gets paid,” Graves says. “He’ll still get his stipend but it’ll ease the financial burden of your sister staying home.”<br/><br/>“Thank you, Mister Graves,” Tina says with a teary smile. She dabs at her eyes and sniffles. “There’s one more thing.”<br/><br/>“Hmm?”<br/><br/>“He’d like to see you.”<br/><br/>Graves frowns. “Me? Why? I think you’ve handled this well.”<br/><br/>Tina looks as if she feels sorry for him and how stupid he must be, something he’s used to from Seraphina, but not Goldstein. “He wants to thank you for saving his life, sir.”<br/><br/>Graves blinks. “Ah,” he says and feels the same unease he always feels when people thank him for saving their lives. It’s his job, not something he needs thanks for, but it seems to help them in some way. “Alright,” he says slowly. “I’ll go see him next week.”<br/><br/>Tina frowns.<br/><br/>“Or… the day after tomorrow?”<br/><br/>Tina nods.<br/><br/>Graves coughs a little. “Right,” he says and sighs. “You’re done for the day, Goldstein. Orders from Seraphina,” he adds when she opens her mouth to protest. “And so am I. Take your time getting in tomorrow, but come to my office first thing before you run off to St Lyptus’ again. We have another matter to discuss regarding Mary Lou Barebone.”<br/><br/>Tina doesn’t look happy about that, but neither is Graves, so he merely smiles grimly in agreement. After Tina has left, he calls in Fontaine and tells him he’s got the floor until morning.<br/><br/>Once he’s left, Graves uses the fireplace in his office to floo to his apartment. He looks around the familiar walls, the familiar furniture, smells the leather and the faint scent of cinnamon, from the sweet rolls he bought on a whim two days ago.<br/><br/>It’s home.<br/><br/>He doesn’t see it much during the daylight hours and thinks it’s a shame as he grabs a sweet roll and goes to his bedroom, toeing off his boots and coat. He collapses into bed and pushes work out of his mind so he might be able to catch up on sleep.<br/><br/>It’s normally easy to do, just another day at the office, but the image of Credence lying in his own blood in the attic follows him into an uneasy sleep, into his dreams.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>Graves does take more time the next morning for himself. He eats a proper breakfast for once and reads the paper and enjoys the view from his floor-to-ceilings windows. It’s a grey morning, cold, but the city is bustling, as it always is, and he looks over the buildings below, thinking of the people that go about their lives, oblivious to it all.<br/><br/>Oblivious to the world he’s a part of, oblivious to the abuse perpetrated by their own. He thinks of Credence, on the other end of the city, lying in a hospital bed, wishing he was dead, so he might not have to be a part of it anymore.<br/><br/>It’s that thought that drives him to MACUSA. He floos into his office and starts his day.<br/><br/>Graves calls Tina in and tells her that Seraphina wishes to see her. But first he tells her what his idea is for handling Mary Lou Barebone and while she purses her lips grimly, she merely nods. When he tells her that Seraphina thinks Credence should have a say in it, she has the same concerns he did - that he cannot possibly answer that question yet. Graves warns her that Seraphina will not want to keep a no-maj inside MACUSA for long before he sends her on her way.<br/><br/>He walks out of his office and leans against Fontaine’s desk as the rest of his Aurors update him on the youngest Barebone child.<br/><br/>She’s frightened, they tell him, but she understands that things cannot go back to normal - her normal - after what had happened the night before. She expresses a desire to see her brother, but they mention she doesn’t have the same desire to see her sister, which isn’t all that surprising. Protective Services plans to take her to St Lyptus’ today, so she can speak with Credence, but they want to evaluate him themselves, if Modesty wishes to be placed with him or if he wishes for it himself.<br/><br/>Graves writes them a memo about possible placement with the Goldstein sisters, which might soften them to letting Modesty join the household. Graves is beginning to suspect that where Credence goes, Modesty will go as well, by both their wishes.</p><p>They’ve detected no magical blood in her, but they’re still family.<br/><br/>The church is condemned and will one day be torn down, no longer a stain on the city.<br/><br/>Once Graves is reasonably sure he has everything in order when it comes to the Barebones, he resumes work on the file Jauncey had given him, and formulates plans for how he thinks the underground network is to be handled as it grows.<br/><br/>His department returns to usual activities, minus the presence of Goldstein, who goes to St Lyptus’ for the rest of the day.<br/><br/>By the next morning, after Graves has gotten into the routine of the day, and he is standing on the floor, observing a map of the city, he has nearly forgotten what he has agreed to.<br/><br/>He watches the movements of the underground, inked footsteps walking across the map, retracing where they have been and where they have been disappearing to. There are heavy ties in Staten Island but they haven’t quite gotten anyone close enough to figure out what they are.<br/><br/>“Mister Graves?”<br/><br/>“Hmm?”<br/><br/>“When do you want to head out?” Tina asks as she comes to stand by his side.<br/><br/>Graves looks at her with a frown. “Ah, to St Lyptus’,” he says when he remembers and grimaces. When she gives him a rather reproachful look, something he’d normally take offense to, he only sighs. “Give me five. I’ll meet you downstairs.”<br/><br/>He wants to tell her he doesn’t have time to make visits just so people can thank him for doing his job. He wants to tell her to take over Credence and Modesty’s placements and care and leave him with Mary Lou. He wants to tell her that he’s the Director of Magical Security, damnit, and he has more pressing concerns waiting for him.<br/><br/>He doesn’t want to tell her, doesn’t want to admit to himself that victims of abuse, like Credence, make him uneasy. Not through any fault of theirs, but merely for what they remind him of. Something locked away a long time ago, but fragile behind the vault door, if he examines it too closely.<br/><br/>Graves has gone to the hospital numerous times to ask victims of dark magic important, time sensitive questions, brushing off their thanks with ease. He’s never gone only to be thanked, because he will leave any questions to Goldstein, who won’t overwhelm Credence and who will hopefully become someone he trusts, someone he can live with peacefully.<br/><br/>He won’t shy away from it, even if he wants to, because he owes Credence it. Suspects that they all owe Credence something, for letting a fellow wizard anguish for so long, alone and forgotten.<br/><br/>So Graves puts on his long coat and scarf and meets Tina downstairs. They Apparate to downtown Manhattan together and step through a boarded up window to a shop that has been condemned and appear in a crisp, white and clean reception area for St Lyptus’. Graves gives a cursory glance around at the various witches and wizards waiting to be seen as he follows Tina.<br/><br/>She takes him to a lift and they take it up to the fifth floor. Graves knows that the fifth floor is for long-term residents, usually, but also houses a ward for spell damage. It’s the one he’s visited most often himself.<br/><br/>Tina leads him down the hall and to the critical ward of long-term care residents. It’s brightly lit, sunshine pouring in through the windows, casting rays of light on the cream and blue walls. It’s an enchantment, as he’s fairly sure it’s going to rain within the next hour, but sunshine does seem to help those on this ward.<br/><br/>Credence Barebone is in a room labeled 5A, and the door is open as they step up to it, and he suspects they won’t be closing the door for a while. It’s a depressing thought, but he knows the necessity of it.<br/><br/>“Credence?” Tina asks as she gently knocks on the doorframe. “May we come in?”<br/><br/>Graves looks at Credence, sitting up in his hospital bed, a book on his lap. His hair is disheveled and he is pale, but there’s a pinkness to his skin, rather than the cold, blue Graves had first seen. A much better sight.<br/><br/>After Credence has nodded, they walk inside, and Graves looks at the flowers on the bedside table, yellow, red and orange dahlias, fitting for November. The room is brightly lit, just like the halls, and Graves can see that Credence’s eyes are a warmer brown than they had looked in the attic.<br/><br/>“Credence, this is the Director of Magical Security, who I work for.”<br/><br/>“Mister Graves,” Credence says.<br/><br/>“Yes, that’s right,” Tina says warmly as she moves to the chair by his bedside, sitting down. “Do you remember meeting him?”<br/><br/>“I thought I dreamed you,” Credence says and looks at his lap. “But Tina told me it was you that found me.”<br/><br/>“It was,” Graves says as he stands near Tina, crossing his arms. “How are you feeling?”<br/><br/>Credence shrugs a shoulder. “I feel fine,” he says, rather mechanically. He looks at Graves again and his gaze is somewhat lifeless. “Thank you. For what you did for me. Saving me. And for saving my sister.”<br/><br/>Graves observes Credence. He says it without any emotion and Graves has the impression he only asked to see him out of politeness’ sake. That he would have rather not been saved at all, but it’s the good Christian thing to do, thanking him. He looks at Tina, who is frowning in return, her eyes full of compassion and a pity that doesn’t sit well in Graves’ stomach.<br/><br/>“Goldstein,” Graves says. “Give us the room.”<br/><br/>Tina’s eyebrows shoot up. “Mister Graves, sir, are you sure that’s a good idea? He’s still healing.”<br/><br/>“I’m aware,” Graves says firmly. “The room, Goldstein.”<br/><br/>Her cheeks are flushed red - with anger, he knows, rather than embarrassment - but she does leave, closing the door behind her. She doesn’t move far from the door and Graves smiles wryly, taking his wand out and casting a Silencing Charm on the entire wall.<br/><br/>Graves sits in the chair she had occupied and looks at Credence again, who is frowning at him, curious and wary. His eyes follow Graves’ wand as he puts it back in his pocket.<br/><br/>“Capable of healing as much as they are damaging,” Graves says.<br/><br/>“You used it to…” Credence trails off and lays his hand over his stomach.<br/><br/>“I did.”<br/><br/>Credence nods and swallows with what looks like some effort. “It was a wand,” he says slowly, “that my mother found me with. Not a real one, just a toy, that Modesty had. A piece of wood. She saw me holding it.”<br/><br/>Graves stays quiet as he watches Credence speak and aches in a way he hasn’t in a long time.<br/><br/>“I’ve never seen her so angry,” Credence says bitterly. “I thought I had, but this was different. She hit me harder than usual. I was bleeding already when she told me she knew it was Modesty’s and it would be her turn next. I… I don’t know what happened, I don’t know <em> how </em> it happened, but I was… I was just so angry, when she said it and… and…”<br/><br/>“The magic in your blood protected you,” Graves says quietly.<br/><br/>Credence’s eyes are red and his lower lip wobbles. “I had thought I dreamed those things from my childhood. Strange things always seemed to happen around me. I didn’t know what I was until Tina told me. It had stopped at some point and… I hadn’t seen those things again, so I thought it wasn’t real. But there was a red light and Ma wasn’t hurting me anymore. She was across the room, on the floor. She found blood on the back of her head and I didn’t mean to hurt her like that, but she told me my time had come.”<br/><br/>When Credence doesn’t continue, accurately assuming Graves can imagine what happened from there, Graves finds he’s angrier than he thought he might be. It’s easy to be detached from people in his line of work. It’s required, so no one makes any mistakes, so no one makes things personal, so no one loses their minds with the grief that comes with being an Auror.<br/><br/>But here is a young wizard never given a chance in their world and nearly defeated by the no-maj one. It angers him, it angers his very soul, and he looks down at his hands for a moment, so Credence won’t see it. Won’t assume the hatred in Graves’ eyes is aimed at him.<br/><br/>“You didn’t choose the way your magic protected you,” Graves says as he looks at Credence, when he’s ready. “It’s not your fault.”<br/><br/>“So they say,” Credence mumbles. “But if I didn’t have magic, it wouldn’t have happened.”<br/><br/>“And she would have continued to hurt you either way,” Graves says and only regrets it slightly when Credence winces, as if Graves had lashed him with his own belt. “She would have found any reason to hurt you and your sisters. That’s what people like her enjoy.”<br/><br/>Credence looks out of the window, his eyes tired, a heaviness to him. His soul is tired, is heavy, is angry like Graves’ and Graves watches him and wishes he could do something beyond ensuring his tormenter isn’t able to torment anyone else.<br/><br/>“Miss Goldstein… Tina, I mean, says that I can live with her and her sister,” Credence says and gestures at the flowers. “Queenie gave me those yesterday.”<br/><br/>“They’re good people, Credence,” Graves says. “Tina has good instincts. And a nurturing nature which isn’t always found in my department. Her sister is much the same.”<br/><br/>Credence nods and looks at Graves again. “They said Modesty can live with us too.”<br/><br/>“That’s right. How did it go, seeing her yesterday?”<br/><br/>Credence smiles faintly, a real smile, and it warms Graves’ heart. “I was glad to see her. I thought she might have been frightened of me,” he says softly and Graves doesn’t know why, doesn’t know why he’s choosing him.<br/><br/>Doesn’t know why Credence is confiding in him. But he won’t stop it.<br/><br/>“I imagine she was merely happy to see you alive,” Graves says. “We would have found you, but she told me where to look when I walked inside.”<br/><br/>“She’s never liked how Ma chooses to punish me,” Credence says quietly. He holds Graves’ gaze and purses his lips for a moment. “What’s going to happen to her, Mister Graves?”<br/><br/>Graves wants to answer him. Tell him his opinion, what he’d personally like to see happen, ask Credence what he wants. But he himself has protested it happening too soon, when Credence is still sitting in a hospital bed, the trauma fresh in his mind, even if it’s gone from his body.<br/><br/>It feels like doing him a disservice, now that he is face to face with Credence. But his natural instinct is still to protect him. To take the logical route.<br/><br/>“We can discuss that at another time,” Graves says slowly. “When you’ve settled in with the Goldsteins and your sister. When our world isn’t so new to you.”<br/><br/>Credence frowns. “Where will she be until then?”<br/><br/>“In a holding cell in MACUSA. Where Tina, Queenie and I work,” Graves says. “We won’t put her in our prison. No-majs don’t belong in them. She will be treated well enough, if that’s what you’re worried about. Better than no-majs treat the people they hold in custody.”<br/><br/>“She was right about me,” Credence says emotionlessly. “That I’m strange.”<br/><br/>“Would you consider everyone you’ve met since you woke up here strange?”<br/><br/>Credence shakes his head. “It’s more than that. I hurt her. There’s still something wicked inside me, the way there isn’t in you or… or Tina.”<br/><br/>“Credence, wickedness is subjective,” Graves says. “Her opinion and definition of wickedness is not the universal one. Your mother’s views are outdated by a few hundred years. You had no control over hurting her. You felt fear, more than usual, and your magic, suppressed for <em> years, </em> fought back. This is normal in our world. Your world.”<br/><br/>Credence looks out of the window again, tears bright in his eyes. “Why did it never protect me before?”<br/><br/>Graves breathes in deeply and thinks about calling Tina back in. She’s gentler than him, better at this than him, though he wants to reach out. He wants to wipe Credence’s tears away and grasp his hand and tell him it will be okay. But he doesn’t want to cross any lines. He doesn’t want to scare Credence, most of all.<br/><br/>“The human mind is what’s strange, Credence,” Graves says quietly. “Your mother made you believe certain things. The magic in you would have believed them too. But you broke free of that, if only for a moment, and your fear, your anger, your helplessness, your <em> wish </em> for help… it answered you then. You might have seen it to a lesser extent when you were a child.”<br/><br/>“How?”<br/><br/>Graves shrugs. “You might have fallen off a slide at the park and your body slowed down before it touched the ground, so you weren’t hurt. I fell in a lake when I was a child. My magic pushed me out of the water so I didn’t drown. We so strongly beg for aid in that moment that we’re able to cast it on ourselves unknowingly,” he says and smiles wryly. “Sometimes we see our magic in gentler ways, of course.”<br/><br/>Credence sniffs. “I could make paper kites fly when there was no wind,” he says quietly. “When I showed the other children at the orphanage, they were frightened.”<br/><br/>“It’s alright to be frightened of the unknown. It’s not a reflection on you. But I am sorry you couldn’t be around children with the same abilities as you. I’m sorry we didn’t find you until now.”<br/><br/>“It’s okay, Mister Graves,” Credence says as he looks at Graves again. “When men came back from the war, they’d say Lady Luck had been on their side. I used to think she was real. That she’d find me one day.” He blinks tears out of his eyes. “But she never did.”<br/><br/>It takes Graves’ breath away and he watches Credence, at a loss for words, the way he usually isn’t. “What do you think brought us to you?” he finally asks, his voice hoarse.<br/><br/>“I don’t know if it was God or the Devil,” Credence says. “I don’t know if they’re real either. I don’t know if it’s just the way the world works sometimes. I don’t know if it was magic or a demon inside me. But…”<br/><br/>“But?”<br/><br/>“But… I think I’m glad for it either way,” Credence says and looks out of the window. “I’m happy to see the sun shine again.”<br/><br/>Graves is so relieved to hear it that he slouches in the chair, putting his hand over his forehead for a moment. He’s relieved, yes, to hear a bit of hope, but he won’t trust that it will remain that way. Healing isn’t a straight line, it zigs and zags and sometimes circles back to the beginning when you least expect it.<br/><br/>But for this one day he will be glad Credence can look at the sun shine through his window and appreciate it.<br/><br/>“I should have asked if you were an angel.”<br/><br/>Graves looks at Credence and raises his eyebrows.<br/><br/>“Angels perform miracles,” Credence says, his cheeks faintly red.<br/><br/>Graves can’t help but chuckle. “You might be the only one in the world who would call me an angel,” he says and smiles, when Credence does. “One day you’ll have a wand of your own. You can perform miracles too.”<br/><br/>Credence looks at the book on his lap, bashful again, and Graves smiles as he watches him. He stands and pulls his wand out, flicking it at the wall to remove the Silencing Charm. He’s turning toward the door when Credence reaches out and grasps his hand, gently.<br/><br/>Graves looks at him, feels the touch of his cool skin, the bones in his hand too frail, too visible. But there’s still strength to him, strength he hopes will only grow, in body and mind.<br/><br/>“Will I see you again, Mister Graves?” Credence asks.<br/><br/>“If you’d like,” Graves says, because he can hardly tell him no. Wouldn’t dream of it. “Tina sees me most days of the week, if I’m not out of the city. If you need help, she can tell me.”<br/><br/>Credence nods, but he doesn’t let go of Graves’ hand. Graves puts his other hand on Credence’s cheek.<br/><br/>“The sun will keep shining, Credence, ever brighter, as long as you keep looking for it.”<br/><br/>Credence gazes at him, tears in his eyes, and when one falls, Graves wipes it away with his thumb. He nods as he gently pulls away and Credence smiles, a bit wobbly, but a smile nonetheless.<br/><br/>Graves opens the door and steps into the hall and doesn’t know why it feels wrong. Like he should stay in that room and do— what? What more can he do for Credence, other than ensure Mary Lou Barebone never harms anyone else? He doesn’t know why Credence wants to see him again but it’s not a one-sided feeling and that worries him. It worries him whenever he wants to see someone outside of a professional capacity.<br/><br/>He tells Tina she’s free to stay there for as long as Credence wants company but tells her to come by the office in the evening, to update him if need be, and perhaps work on the cases already on her desk. He promises to assign the higher priority cases to others in the department, so she can focus on Credence.<br/><br/>She thanks him genuinely for it, perhaps forgiveness for kicking her out, and he smiles as he walks out of the hall and through the familiar hospital.<br/><br/>Graves Apparates back to MACUSA and, for now, pushes the Barebones to the back of mind, so he can focus his attention on his higher priority cases.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>Tina and Queenie are allowed to take Modesty home, after an inspection and thorough conversation with Credence. They won’t release him from the hospital for another few days, which Tina isn’t happy about, but Graves is relieved by.<br/><br/>He merely continues to give Tina permission to visit him and she brings him books, which she says he enjoys. <em> A History of Magic, the Tale of Beedle the Bard, </em> and a first year Charms textbook. He’s growing more curious, Tina tells Graves one evening, more curious and fascinated.<br/><br/>Graves arranges a stipend with Seraphina and is surprised how generous it is. She says it’s for both the Barebones, but Graves knows it goes deeper than that. They’ve failed, MACUSA as a whole, in not finding and protecting Credence. Dragots aren’t going to make up for that, but if they ease their way into the wizarding world, if it gives them comforts they’ve never had before, well… Graves doesn’t see the harm in it.<br/><br/>He continues to work with his team on the underground network of dark wizards, closer to their proverbial and rapidly expanding lair every day, though they won’t make any arrests. Once they start doing that, the rest of them will vanish, and it’s up to Graves to give the greenlight to move in. There are so many of them, so suddenly, that he’s more concerned with getting to the orchestrators of it all, than the ones who commit petty crime for them. Their time will come someday, as it always does.<br/><br/>Three days later, Tina tells him that Credence has been brought home. She’s worried, afraid that Queenie and herself may not be enough, but Graves thinks they will help Credence and Modesty both, more than anyone else in MACUSA might be able to.<br/><br/>He’s not allowed a wand yet, which Graves agrees with, merely because he would rather know that Credence is stable before giving him so much responsibility. Tina agrees, only reluctantly, and tells him that Credence seems rather frightened at the idea of a wand anyway.<br/><br/>She gives him updates throughout the next two weeks and Graves is glad to hear of their progress. Modesty is a cheerful girl, now that she is not being terrorized by her mother, but Tina mentions that she makes comments that frighten her sometimes.<br/><br/>Her mind has been warped, beginning when it was so <em> easy </em> to warp, and Graves tells Tina to give it time. It can be unraveled, made anew and time will heal the rest.<br/><br/>After another week has come and gone, Graves is beginning to feel reasonably assured by Tina’s updates on the Barebones’ progress. She says they have odd habits, but they’re smiling more, talking more.<br/><br/>Of course it all comes crashing down one day and Graves is honestly surprised it hasn’t happened sooner.<br/><br/>The knock on his office door, at nearly nine in the evening, is urgent and with a wave of his hand, it opens and Tina strides in. She’s pale, her eyes frightened and Graves frowns.<br/><br/>“What is it?”<br/><br/>“It’s Credence,” she says, wringing her hands together. “Queenie’s been sending me messages for the last hour, she can’t find him anywhere. He only likes to be in the apartment or the bakery, which is closed now, but sometimes he likes to take walks and she thought he had gone on one, but it’s been a few hours now and—”<br/><br/>“It’s alright, Tina,” Graves says calmly as he stands and pulls on his long coat. “Modesty?”<br/><br/>“She’s with Queenie. Queenie doesn’t want to leave her alone or alarm her by searching for him. I thought I might go to Central Park, see if he went there, since it snowed all night. He said he’s always liked the sight of it after it snows.”<br/><br/>Graves nods. “Tell Queenie to stay with Modesty. Go to Central Park,” he says. “I’ll see if I can locate him. Send your Patronus if you find him.”<br/><br/>Tina nods and hurries out of the office. Graves follows and when they’re outside, he watches her Disapparate. He looks up at the sky, grey and stormy, promising more snowfall tonight. With a nod, he Disapparates and with a <em> crack, </em> appears across the street from a familiar church.<br/><br/>It’s been condemned, tape put across the doors, windows boarded up, large fliers declaring it uninhabitable and due for demolition soon. As he crosses the street and walks to the doors, he sees the tape has been broken, but carefully undisturbed despite that. Graves opens the door and ducks underneath the tape and steps into the church.<br/><br/>It’s dark, only lit by the pale light outside and Graves pulls out his wand, giving it a gentle, arching sweep. He feels a soft wave fall over him, the presence of another person nearby, and looks upward, toward the attic. He didn’t need the spell, really, but it’s still a comfort, to know Credence is here.<br/><br/>Graves walks up the stairs and opens the attic door, stepping up the last few stairs and into it.<br/><br/>Credence is there, sitting on the floor, by the bloodstain. There’s an oil lamp next to him, for some light, but Graves still sends the same four orbs of soft, white light to the corners of the room. Credence doesn’t flinch, so like that first night, and Graves gently sighs.<br/><br/>“You can join me, Mister Graves,” Credence says quietly, not looking his way.<br/><br/>Graves moves to Credence’s side and cleans away the dust so he won’t have to later before he sits next to Credence, on the other side of the oil lamp.<br/><br/>“I’m sorry,” Credence says. “For worrying Tina and Queenie. I didn’t plan on coming here today.”<br/><br/>“I don’t think they would have thought to come here for a while,” Graves says. “Do you mind if I tell them you’re safe?”<br/><br/>Credence shakes his head.<br/><br/>Graves sends his Patronus to find Tina, without saying where Credence is, and puts his wand away. “Are you alright?”<br/><br/>“I’m fine,” Credence says softly. “It just felt like I should be here today.” He sniffs and looks at Graves. “How did you know?”<br/><br/>Graves watches Credence, his pale skin lit by the soft light in the room, his eyes red-rimmed, but dry now. He looks both ethereal and heartbreakingly human.<br/><br/>“I know something about going back to where it all began,” Graves says. “It’s an odd feeling, when it calls to you. But it’s hard to ignore, even if you know you’re only going to find reminders of the pain.”<br/><br/>“Where is it for you?” Credence asks, barely a whisper.<br/><br/>“The Graves family manor,” Graves says. “North of here. In the woods, overlooking a river. Those were the only things I ever enjoyed about it.”<br/><br/>Credence watches him, his gaze full of empathy, but not pity. Graves isn’t sure how he’d feel if Credence pitied him. But Credence sniffs a bit and looks back at the bloodstain.<br/><br/>“When is it going to be demolished?”<br/><br/>“Whenever you’d like. Tina was going to ask you if you or your sister wanted anything from here. It would happen after that, if you’d like, or whenever you’re ready.”<br/><br/>“Why is it up to me?”<br/><br/>“Because there can be something cathartic in choosing how and when it ends.”<br/><br/>Credence looks at Graves. “Did you ever...?”<br/><br/>Graves chuckles wryly. “No,” he says. “The manor would never let me. But I found other ways.”<br/><br/>“How does a home stop you from destroying it?”<br/><br/>“Heavy enchantments. Old magic,” Graves says. “My family moved to New York generations ago. But my father moved us to the manor in Maine, when I was young, that my great-great grandfather built as a summer home. When I was fifteen he ensured that it would not pass to me or my sister, but rather to any children I had.”<br/><br/>“But you don’t have any,” Credence says quietly.<br/><br/>“I don’t,” Graves agrees. “Foiled him again.” He smiles as Credence does, faintly. “So now it belongs to the Graves family in name, but no one will ever be able to tear it down. It’ll rot away one day.”<br/><br/>Credence nods, his eyes drifting back to the bloodstain. Graves wishes he could take him away from here, so he could never look at this place again, never see where his life almost ended, never be reminded of his mother’s abuse. He wants to shield him from it, but he can’t.<br/><br/><em> Oh, </em> he can’t, and he knows it well. But he knows there’s healing too, he knows how the pain fades away, and he would leap through time, if it meant he could get Credence there faster.<br/><br/>“There’s nothing here,” Credence says quietly. “Modesty and I talked about it one night when Tina and Queenie were asleep. I asked if she wanted any of her toys and she said she didn’t want anything from here. I don’t either.”<br/><br/>Graves nods as he peers at Credence for a while. “Credence,” he says. “You know the process of physical wounds healing. Some take longer than others.” Credence nods as he frowns at Graves. “Wounds inflicted on our souls take longer to heal. Sometimes they hurt even more keenly than when they were inflicted but it’s part of the process.”<br/><br/>“I do know that, Mister Graves.”<br/><br/>“I don’t doubt it,” Graves says. “But that pain can cloud our judgment sometimes.”<br/><br/>Credence frowns further, in question.<br/><br/>“It would have been a bad death,” Graves says. “Burning in here.”<br/><br/>Credence’s eyes widen briefly, his pallor turning grey, and he quickly looks away, his shoulders arched up uncomfortably. “I wasn’t going to do it,” he mumbles. “I only thought about it for a moment.”<br/><br/>“I know,” Graves says gently, and he truly does know the truth of it. “But how about we burn it down anyway?” When Credence looks warily at him, tears shining in his eyes, Graves smiles. “Preferably without you in it.”<br/><br/>Credence huffs a helpless laugh and wipes at his eyes. “Alright,” he says feebly. But then he clears his throat and nods. “Alright,” he says more confidently. “Let’s burn it down.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles and stands, holding his hands out to Credence. He takes them and when he stands, he doesn’t pull away for a moment, merely gazes at Graves. He squeezes the back of Credence’s neck and gestures at the oil lamp.<br/><br/>Once Credence puts out the flame, they use the oil to draw a line from the attic to the middle of the church floor. Graves watches Credence take one last look around before he pulls out his wand and hands it to him.<br/><br/>“I’ve never…” Credence trails off and gulps. “I won’t ruin it?”<br/><br/>Graves shakes his head reassuringly and once Credence has grasped his wand, he puts his hand over his and points it at the small pool of oil. “Incendio. Say it with meaning. Say it with intention.”<br/><br/>Credence licks his lips nervously but Graves holds his hand steady. He breathes in deeply and says, clearly, <em> “Incendio.” </em><br/><br/>A stream of fire bursts from the tip of the wand and hits the oil and they watch as the fire steadily moves through the church, up the stairs and toward the attic. Graves looks at Credence, sees the flames dancing in his eyes, and smiles.<br/><br/>They leave the church and Graves casts a protection charm around the building, so that the fire will not spread around it and they stand in the empty street. The flames grow quickly, the church old and not maintained, made of half-rotted wood. When the fire bursts through the boarded windows and the roof catches, Graves hears the fire department in the distance. They’ll let it burn, knowing it’s been condemned.<br/><br/>Credence gently presses against Graves and Graves wraps his arm around his shoulders and together, they watch it burn.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>Graves and Credence walk down the sidewalk together, the streets nearly empty, the lamps only lowly lit. They watched the church burn as the fire department had arrived and Graves had told them to let it go and the city would clean up the remains soon enough. They had continued to watch it after, until it began to collapse.<br/><br/>Their shoulders brush together as they turn down another street and Graves looks up as snowflakes begin to fall.<br/><br/>“Why does the no-maj fire department know you? They called you Detective,” Credence says.<br/><br/>“When we suspect a crime has been committed by a wizard, the no-maj police are often there investigating as well. My department takes over, if there’s been magic used, and they merely think it goes to their special crimes unit,” Graves explains. “Our worlds are intertwined in a variety of ways when we live on top of each other, like in this city.”<br/><br/>“I suppose that makes sense,” Credence says softly. “I wonder how many witches and wizards I’ve met without knowing.”<br/><br/>“Anyone that was dressed more eccentrically than you’re used to seeing was probably one of us,” Graves says dryly. “Some of us haven’t quite mastered blending in.”<br/><br/>When Graves catches Credence eyeing him, he scoffs. “I’m dressed fashionably,” he says. “There’s a glaring difference.”<br/><br/>Credence looks away again and tries to hide a grin as he looks down at the sidewalk. “You do stand out,” he says quietly. “But not for being eccentric.”<br/><br/>Graves laughs. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”<br/><br/>“It was meant to be one.”<br/><br/>Graves looks at Credence, who isn’t quite looking back at him, but he’s still smiling and his ears are dark. “Thank you, Credence,” he chuckles and smiles as he looks ahead.<br/><br/>He would tell Credence he stands out as well, but he thinks Credence would take it to mean for all the wrong reasons. Graves doesn’t think Credence could ever stand out for any ill reason - he’s handsome, almost painfully so, masculine but not ungentle, and Graves thinks, if Credence keeps looking at him the way he has tonight, he might not recover from it.<br/><br/>They walk the rest of the mile to Tina and Queenie’s apartment. Graves follows Credence inside and notes with some amusement that he’s trying not to make any noise at all. Graves has heard a mention or two of the landlady and follows his lead, until they get to the Goldstein apartment.<br/><br/>Credence has his own key and he quietly unlocks it and steps inside, tension back in his shoulders. It’s such a familiar posture to Graves, an animal waiting to be attacked, and his heart aches for Credence, even though he knows he will not experience anymore hurt. Not here.<br/><br/>“Oh, Credence!” Tina’s voice says as Credence walks further into the apartment. She leaps up from the sofa she was sitting on, Queenie at her side and Modesty in Queenie’s lap.<br/><br/>Graves leans in the doorway and watches as Tina engulfs Credence in a hug, looking over his shoulder at Graves. He merely shakes his head, because it is not his place to tell her where Credence had gone and what they had done. If Credence wants to tell her, he will.<br/><br/>“We thought you might have gotten turned around one too many times, honey,” Queenie says, as Modesty runs to Credence and hugs him around the waist.<br/><br/>“We were scared!” Modesty says, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Are you alright, Credence?”<br/><br/>“I am,” he says. “I’m sorry I scared you. All of you. I lost track of time.”<br/><br/>Graves watches Queenie’s eyebrows inch upward and when she looks at him, he smiles and shrugs. Her responding grin is wide, pleased, and she gives Credence a hug of her own, whispering in his ear.<br/><br/>He nods at whatever she says, smiling, and Graves is glad to see his shoulders loosen, relaxed.<br/><br/>“Would you like to stay for a night cap, Mister Graves?” Queenie asks.<br/><br/>“I would, but I have to go back to office,” Graves says regretfully. “I have to close out a file or two.”<br/><br/>“But sir, it’s nearly eleven,” Tina says with a frown. “Do you need help?”<br/><br/>“I am perfectly capable of closing out a case file on my own, Goldstein,” Graves says as he smirks. “I won’t be long. Then it’s a feather pillow and satin sheets for me.”<br/><br/>Tina nods, her cheeks pink, and looks as tired as he suspects he will be when he gets home. It’s Queenie who bursts into giggles unexpectedly, then quickly covers her mouth and looks down at her shoes.<br/><br/>Graves notices Credence squirming, his own cheeks red, for a reason he suspects has nothing to do with Tina’s, and is shooting Queenie an exasperated look.<br/><br/>He decides he doesn’t want to know.<br/><br/>“Any chance I can use the fireplace?”<br/><br/>Tina shows Graves where the floo powder is and he looks at Credence and Modesty leaning against him. He smiles. “Good night, you two.”<br/><br/>“Will we see you again, Mister Graves?” Modesty asks cheerfully.<br/><br/>“I imagine you will, Miss Barebone,” Graves says. “If you need anything, from me or MACUSA, let Tina know.” He gives a salute and meets Credence’s eyes as he tosses the floo powder.<br/><br/>It will be Credence’s gentle smile he will remember when he drifts off to sleep tonight.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>Graves dives into work for the next two weeks. He gets updates from Tina, of course, every evening before she goes home, and he’s glad that they’re always generally <em> good </em> updates.<br/><br/>The Barebones’ moods are improving, Modesty’s the most, which isn’t surprising. Tina says that sometimes Queenie has a hard time keeping up with her, but she doesn’t mind, because they had to grow up too quickly themselves and she enjoys seeing a little girl enjoying her childhood.<br/><br/>Credence is less depressed, Tina says, though he still has dark thoughts. She says that Queenie has heard him fighting them more often and he’s getting better at it, since he’s still visiting a Healer once a week at St Lyptus’. They aren’t as worried for him, but they don’t think he should have a wand yet, and Graves isn’t sure if he quite agrees or not anymore.<br/><br/>The one time Credence asks to see him is the one time Graves cannot. And he’s a little pissed about it. </p><p>He’s off to Boston to crack down on a group of vampires who are terrorizing the North End, which is filled with narrow, winding alleys, perfect for ambushes.<br/><br/>Some witches and wizards plead for tolerance for vampires and Graves can understand that - he can understand it for werewolves as well. Most often, they did not choose their lot in life. But turning their anger onto innocents, especially no-majs, leads them straight to prison, if they aren’t killed during a raid or an attempt to arrest them. They can keep vampiric and werewolf urges at bay with potions in prison, as most of them do on their own in their own homes, but there are always those who crave violence.<br/><br/>Graves likes to remind them that they aren’t above the law.<br/><br/>It takes four days, a lot of narrow misses and close calls, but they root out the vampires from the city. They won’t say if there are other clans around and Graves orders the use of Legilimency as he sends them off to prison.<br/><br/>It takes another full day to Obliviate no-majs and spread rumors about Occultist activity that will appease the general public, who fear the supernatural far more than devil worship.<br/><br/>Fontaine drags Graves to the bar as soon as they get home, despite the fact that he’d like nothing but a hot shower and a good night of sleep. He has to visit Gringotts tomorrow and he’s not looking forward to the headache that will be.<br/><br/>“If I didn’t know any better,” Fontaine says as he sips his steaming stout, “I’d say you were upset you missed a date.”<br/><br/>Graves rubs at his eyes for a while and blinks blearily at his Captain. “Well, now I’ve got you,” he says and tips back his double of Pure Malt Whiskey. He holds up two fingers to Rosalie at the end of the bar. “You aren’t as pretty though.”<br/><br/>Fontaine snorts. “I haven’t seen you this distracted in years.”<br/><br/>“I can assure you I was not distracted in Boston,” Graves says stonily.<br/><br/>“No? Did you destroy that fancy scarf yourself then?”<br/><br/>Graves sighs as Rosalie moves to them and pours him another double. “I merely forgot to take it off before pursuing one of the pasty bastards,” he says. “And they rightly tried to strangle me with it.”<br/><br/>“Strangle you, huh?” Rosalie asks with a smile. “You do look pretty awful, Percival.”<br/><br/>“Thank you,” Graves dryly says as Fontaine snickers. “I’m fine, by the way.”<br/><br/>“Neck is real bruised though. You need some help with it, doll?” she asks with an overly flirtatious wink and a bit of a suggestive bend forward.<br/><br/>Fontaine howls with laughter before Graves can even respond. Thankfully Rosalie only grins, rather than take offense.<br/><br/>“Aren’t you on holiday break from Ilvermorny?” Graves asks instead as he snatches his whiskey and takes another gulp.<br/><br/>“Finished two years ago, ya know,” she says and flutters her hand as she walks away to serve someone else.</p><p>Graves pointedly doesn’t think about the fact that Credence and Rosalie would have been in the same year, if things had gone differently.<br/><br/>“Barking up the wrong tree, that one,” Fontaine says as he wipes tears from his eyes. “She’ll never learn.”<br/><br/>“Why does she never do that to you when we come in?” Graves asks moodily and waves his hand dismissively when Fontaine flashes his wedding ring.  “I’m fucked, you know.”<br/><br/>“Yep,” Fontaine says with a shrug. “Your distraction told me that. What’s his name?”<br/><br/>Graves doesn’t answer, shaking his head, and tips back the rest of the whiskey. When he glances at Fontaine, he groans to see his eyebrows raised expectantly. “His name is<em> fuck off, I’m going to bed,”</em> he says and pulls out a few Dragots, slapping them on the bar.<br/><br/>“One more,” Fontaine says. “We did good work the last few days.”<br/><br/>“Go home to Eldora before she writes me another Howler,” Graves says. “She hid the last one under those lemon cookies she makes. Didn’t even get to enjoy more than half of one.”<br/><br/>Fontaine grimaces sympathetically. “You’re right. I do miss that woman,” he says and together, they stand and leave the bar. “It takes some getting used to, doesn’t it?”<br/><br/>“What’s that?” Graves sighs as they walk out into the December cold, mourning his scarf.<br/><br/>“The idea that you’ve got someone back home you want to see again,” Fontaine says and shrugs when Graves shoots him a look. “You’ll enjoy it, soon. Merlin help us all when you fight even harder because of it.”<br/><br/>He claps Graves on the shoulder and Disapparates a moment later, off to his home out in Jericho. Graves watches his breath cloud in front of him for a while, too tired and a little too tipsy to be entirely thrown off by the conversation.<br/><br/>Credence isn’t… his. Not even close. They are worlds apart and yet…<br/><br/>And yet Credence looks at him the way he does and Graves knows he looks back and he knows that he thinks of him throughout his days. Knows that the best part of his days lately has been hearing about Credence’s progress. Knows that he was pissed when Credence asked for him and he couldn’t be there.<br/><br/>Knows that he forgot to take his scarf off because of it.<br/><br/>Graves can hardly do Credence the disservice of getting maimed or killed anytime soon. Fight even harder, Fontaine had said, and Graves knows he’s perfectly capable of that.<br/><br/>Apparating takes a bit more concentration than normal, but he supposes he gets home in one piece.<br/><br/>Maybe he can navigate everything else and come out in one piece too.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>Graves wakes up late and spends an hour getting back into a reasonably suitable state, including healing the bruises on his neck. He picks out another scarf and thinks that he’ll have to make a stop at Anita’s while he’s in Dragon Street today, to get another few made.<br/><br/>Once he’s had breakfast and an ample amount of coffee, he floos to the inn that borders Dragon Street. Once he manages to get through the brick wall and fights his way through the gaggle of Christmas shoppers, he turns a corner, walking toward the towering white building, always a little crooked on its foundation.<br/><br/>“Mister Graves?”<br/><br/>For a moment Graves thinks he’s imagined that voice. The last voice he would expect to hear here, and yet, when he stops and turns and looks at the patio of <em>Pasqual’s Scoops,</em> he sees Credence Barebone.<br/><br/>Graves blinks at him and Credence blinks back, looking as surprised as he is.<br/><br/>“Credence,” he says and frowns as he looks at the hot fudge sundae Credence is working through. “That can’t possibly be part of a healthy breakfast.”<br/><br/>Credence smiles and shrugs and takes a rather pointed bite in reply. “Are you here on MACUSA business?”<br/><br/>Graves moves closer to the low wrought iron fence surrounding the patio and leans against it. “I am. Are you here alone?”<br/><br/>“Modesty is with Queenie in <em>Siegfriend’s</em> <em>Sweets Shoppe,”</em> Credence says as he gestures across the street.<br/><br/>“That’s somehow worse.”<br/><br/>Credence laughs and ducks his head, looking at his sundae. “We don’t eat like this every day, you know. But Queenie is getting sweets to hand out at MACUSA on Christmas Eve. She says she does it every year.” He looks at Graves. “She said you don’t ever take any.”<br/><br/>Graves isn’t sure if it’s joy or worry that makes his heart flutter like a damn schoolboy, to know he’s been talked about. “I don’t particularly like candy,” he says. “It’s the baked goods that get me. Don’t tell her that,” he adds firmly as Credence raises his eyebrows. “I throw out the majority of what people give me on Christmas.”<br/><br/>“I won’t tell her,” Credence says, still smiling. He looks up at Graves again and Graves thinks he would be done in by the look in his eyes alone, if he wasn’t on the clock.<br/><br/>“Credence,” he says. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come see you a few days ago. I was called away.”<br/><br/>“Tina told me,” Credence says quietly. “I was worried.” His cheeks turn pink. “She told me not to be, but… I couldn’t really help it. It wasn’t important anyway. I’m glad you’re alright.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles faintly. “I’m sorry for worrying you too,” he says. “But I am alright. Minus a scarf, but I’ll order another one today after Gringotts.”<br/><br/>“Gringotts?” Credence asks and grimaces. “We have to go there too.”<br/><br/>“For you or Queenie?”</p><p>“For me.”</p><p>“Do you have a vault yet?”<br/><br/>“No, that’s what we’re going to do. Queenie says she isn’t sure they’ll let me open one without a wand, but I received my first stipend from MACUSA,” Credence says, looking a bit green. “I didn’t realize it was going to be so many coins.”<br/><br/>“Our currency will take some getting used to,” Graves says with a smile. “It’s a good idea to start putting it in the vault. Though she’s right, they typically won’t open a vault without a registered wand.” He hums. “I can strongarm them, if you want.”<br/><br/>“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Credence says hastily, his ears red. “I don’t want to offend anyone.”<br/><br/>“Goblins are almost always offended. Mostly by our stupidity,” Graves says with a wry smile. “I’m already going to strongarm them myself. Join me.”<br/><br/>Credence eyes him for a while before he nods. “Can we wait for Queenie and Modesty?”<br/><br/>“No need,” Graves says as he gestures across the street.<br/><br/>Queenie and Modesty are exiting the sweets shop, both their arms loaded with bags, and they light up when they see Graves with Credence. Modesty runs through the crowd with far more rudeness than Queenie and Graves smirks as Credence groans.<br/><br/>“You have to say excuse me,” Credence says, but he’s fighting off a smile as Modesty comes up to the fence.<br/><br/>“I did!” she says brightly and beams up at Graves. “Hello, Mister Graves. Did you win your duel?”<br/><br/>Graves raises his eyebrows. “I won quite a few actually,” he says and smiles as she nods, like she knew that would be the answer. “Ready for Christmas?”<br/><br/>“Yes, sir,” Modesty says with a grin. “We’re almost done shopping! Are you?”<br/><br/>Queenie has finally fought her way through the crowd and she huffs as she sets some of her bags down. “I don’t think Mister Graves would know where to begin Christmas shopping, honey.”<br/><br/>“A blatant falsehood,” Graves says mildly. “I know precisely what everyone in my department likes to drink.”<br/><br/>“Teenie <em> did </em> enjoy that bottle of champagne last year, she barely shared it,” Queenie sighs and smiles. “What’re you doing here, honey? You workin’?”<br/><br/>“I am,” Graves says. “Gringotts. I offered to take Credence with me, if you don’t mind.”<br/><br/>“Oh, no, not at all,” Queenie says, suspiciously quick about it. “I think you’d have much better luck than I would getting a vault open for them. Modesty and I can go look at <em> Madame Syagrius' Animal Emporium.” </em><br/><br/>Modesty brightens impossibly further. “The owls!”<br/><br/>“That’s right, honey,” Queenie giggles. “Maybe we oughta think about getting one, for you and your brother, so you can send letters whenever you want.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles as he listens to Modesty begin to list off a few breeds of owls that are of particular interest - all of them, it seems - and looks at Credence, who is smiling fondly at his sister.<br/><br/>“What kind would you want, Credence?” Modesty asks breathlessly.<br/><br/>“Whichever one you pick,” he says and smiles wider when she grins.<br/><br/>“I suppose that’s that then,” Queenie says and winks at Graves. “See you two in a bit, huh?”<br/><br/>They watch Queenie and Modesty fight their way back through the crowd and Graves looks at Credence. “Come along, Mister Barebone, that warming charm isn’t on this side of the fence.”<br/><br/>Credence laughs and finishes his sundae. He meets Graves around the corner and they walk up the sloping cobblestone street, only a few people coming and going from the bank. They stop in front of the stairs leading up to the tall, wide golden doors. Graves straightens out Credence’s coat and smiles as he sees a bit of hot fudge on the corner of his mouth.<br/><br/>He thinks Credence’s blush, when he hands him his handkerchief, is the most charming thing he’ll see all day.<br/><br/>“Keep it,” he says when Credence tries to hand it back. “Have you met a goblin before?”<br/><br/>“Only Red, at MACUSA, when we met Tina for lunch.”<br/><br/>Graves is mildly annoyed that he was never aware Credence was in the building. But he pushes that thought away and sighs. “Goblins are fine people if you don’t disrespect or lie to them. I am very, very good at lying, for my job, and they see through me half the time. So answer their questions honestly and you’ll be fine.”<br/><br/>Credence looks green. “Sometimes when I’m nervous I sound like I’m lying.”<br/><br/>Graves doubts that’s true - knows who might have put it in his head - and sighs. “They can tell the difference. So can I,” he says quietly. “Our relationship with goblins was fraught for a long time and some wizards still look at them as <em> lesser. </em> We wouldn’t have an economy if not for goblins, let alone any of our gold and silver trade. Those same wizards don’t mind purchasing silverwork done by goblins, because it’s simply the best, but they don’t extend that respect to the actual people behind it. Be kind, courteous and respectful, and you’ll earn their respect in return.”<br/><br/>Credence looks grey now.<br/><br/>“You know what?” Graves says, clapping him on his shoulders. “Let me do the talking.”<br/><br/>When Credence nods warily, Graves leads him up the stairs and pushes the door open, stepping inside the bank. He’s been here countless times in his life, whether it was at his father’s heel, managing his own vault or investigating others’.<br/><br/>The floors are marble, cream with gold and silver streaks through them, and the high counters are cherry wood, goblins sorting through coins and gems behind them.<br/><br/>They walk to the main counter and when the goblin there looks at Graves, he smiles.<br/><br/>“Ah, Director Graves,” he says. “A pleasant surprise, as always.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles dryly. “That gets more convincing each time you say it, Grinlor,” he says. “I have one vault to open today and this young man needs to open his first one.”<br/><br/>Grinlor looks at Credence, peering at him for such a long time that Credence begins to look even more pale than usual.<br/><br/>“Does the young man have his wand?” Grinlor asks.<br/><br/>“I’m afraid not,” Graves says. “Extraordinary circumstances. We only came to know he was a wizard some weeks ago.”<br/><br/>“Absolutely not,” Grinlor says firmly. “No wand, no vault.”<br/><br/>“Hmm,” Graves hums. “Deposits will be coming directly from MACUSA.”<br/><br/>“Then he can add them to his vault when he has a wand.”<br/><br/>“What year was it that I opened my own personal vault again, Grinlor?”<br/><br/>Grinlor stiffens and purses his lips, staring stonily at Graves. “That was—”<br/><br/>“An extraordinary circumstance?” Graves asks as he raises his eyebrows.<br/><br/>Grinlor closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, seeming to be gathering strength from a higher power. He finally sighs and nods once, looking at Credence. “You have your first deposit, I presume.”<br/><br/>“Oh, er… yes,” Credence says and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a familiar deposit box from MACUSA. He hands it to Grinlor, who stares suspiciously at him for a while before he opens it.<br/><br/>“How often will the deposit be received?”<br/><br/>“Monthly,” Graves answers. When Grinlor looks at him, his heavy brow arched, Graves shrugs. “Extraordinary circumstances.”<br/><br/>“You have friends in high places then, Mister…?”<br/><br/>“Oh,” Credence says and coughs a little. “Credence Barebone, sir.”<br/><br/>“Barebone,” Grinlor says with narrowed eyes. “Hmm, of course…” He turns back to the coins, dragging a finger along each row of them before he jots down their total on a piece of parchment paper. “Vault 495 will be named to Credence Barebone. He will of course bring his wand in the moment he purchases it to register it to his vault.”<br/><br/>“Of course,” Credence says hurriedly. “Thank you, sir.”<br/><br/>Grinlor nods shortly and turns his gaze to Graves. “What more do you want to trouble me with?”<br/><br/>“I need to see Vault 783.”<br/><br/><em> “Absolutely not.” </em><br/><br/>“Don’t make me sanction you.”<br/><br/>“That vault has belonged to the same family for three hundred years!”<br/><br/>“Mhmm,” Graves says and pulls out a letter from his coat, handing it to Grinlor. “President Picquery’s orders, I’m afraid.”<br/><br/>Grinlor scowls at him before he opens the letter and reads through it. He reads through it a few more times and Graves waits patiently, resting his hand on Credence’s back when he begins to fidget uncomfortably.<br/><br/>“Oh, very well,” Grinlor says and stuffs the letter into his breast pocket. “Follow me.” He gestures for Ulluk to take over the counter and leads Graves and Credence around it.<br/><br/>They step into the hall behind the counter and walk to a single lift at the end of it, stepping inside. When Grinlor presses a few different buttons, their runes still unfamiliar to Graves, they glow golden and the lift moves downward.<br/><br/>Credence gasps as the cavern opens up to them. Its bottomless depths and the stalactites and stalagmites that only grow in size the further down they go are an incredible sight still, even to Graves. The lift moves in any which way it needs to and Graves gently grasps Credence’s hand when he nearly loses his balance as the lift makes a sharp left turn.<br/><br/>It takes a few minutes and various turns before they finally arrive at Vault 495. Grinlor ushers them off the lift and walks to the unassuming vault door.<br/><br/>“Mister Barebone,” he says. “Place your hand here and do not remove it until I tell you to do so.”<br/><br/>Credence shoots Graves a look but he smiles reassuringly and nods.<br/><br/>Credence looks as if he expects his death at any moment, but he does as Grinlor says and places his hand against the vault door. Grinlor places his own hand near Credence’s, until the door begins to glow, first a soft, silver, then a brighter gold. Credence gapes at it and Graves watches him fondly, sure that Credence hasn’t realized what sort of step this is.<br/><br/>The glow fades and Grinlor says, “Remove your hand, please.”<br/><br/>And, when Credence does, he stares down at an elegant key resting on his palm, his eyes wide. “Is this—?”<br/><br/>“Do <em> not </em> lose it,” Grinlor warns. “You may open your vault and place your deposit in.” He hands Credence the deposit box.<br/><br/>Credence carefully inserts the key into the vault and turns it and with a low creak, the heavy door swings open. It’s big enough, Graves supposes, with shelves carved into the cavern, all of varying sizes. Enough for a family that makes a modest living, though Credence looks as if he thinks he will never be able to fill it.<br/><br/>“Take any you might need until next month,” Graves says and smiles as Credence pockets a few Dragots and Sprinks. He hastily steps out of the vault, as if he fears being shut inside, and Graves pats his shoulder. “Well done.”<br/><br/>“To Vault 783, please,” Grinlor says as he ushers them back into the lift.<br/><br/>Credence takes Graves’ hand himself.<br/><br/>“I don’t suppose we’ll be keeping their business after this,” Grinlor says unhappily. “After your meddling.”<br/><br/>“That meddling just might save a life or two. Besides, I don’t expect all of them to be involved,” Graves says and smirks as Grinlor shakes his head in displeasure. “How’s your wife?”<br/><br/>“She’s well,” Grinlor says as he looks at Graves. “Better than when you last asked.”<br/><br/>“She was due a few weeks ago, wasn’t she?”<br/><br/>“Aye, that she was. A boy,” Grinlor says and smiles, puffing out his chest proudly. “Ragguss.”<br/><br/>“Strong name,” Graves remarks. “That’s four now?”<br/><br/>“You have a good memory, Director,” Grinlor says. “Four, yes, two of each.”<br/><br/>“You’re a far braver man than I, Grinlor,” Graves says and laughs when Grinlor nods in agreement. Graves looks at Credence, who is blinking at him, and shrugs. “Grinlor and I have known each other since I was biting ankles.”</p><p>“He was more pleasant then,” Grinlor says.<br/><br/>“Oh,” Credence says in surprise and proceeds to frown, with all the information that likely has given him to think about.<br/><br/>After many more twists and turns, they stop with a lurch in front of Vault 783 and Graves tells Credence to stay back until he’s sure it’s safe. Grinlor mutters about this but he does unlock the vault by dragging his finger against it in a strange, swooping motion, until the door glows blue and opens. Grinlor steps back as Graves pulls out his wand and looks inside.<br/><br/>“It’s empty,” Credence says in confusion, a few feet behind Graves.<br/><br/>“Ridiculous,” Grinlor mutters. “Insulting.”<br/><br/>“It’s not empty,” Graves says and smirks over his shoulder at Credence. “Merely disguised.” He gives a complicated little wave of his wand and a small, white orb floats into the middle of the large vault before it explodes outward without any actual force or sound.<br/><br/>Steadily, mounds and mounds of Dragots, Sprinks, gold and silver bars, jewelry, gems, and a fair amount of British currency reveal themselves.<br/><br/>“As if they think anyone could break in,” Grinlor mutters. “Such useless charms.”<br/><br/>“I think someone was hoping a particularly foolish Auror wouldn’t know what to look for rather than worrying about a break-in, Grinlor,” Graves says as he looks closely at the contents of the vault. “Aha.”<br/><br/>He points at something wrapped in blue stain, an embroidered <em> W </em> stitched with silver thread in the middle, the size of a fist.<br/><br/>Grinlor sighs. “Is that what the wizarding elite is so fixated on right now?” he asks grouchily.<br/><br/>“It is,” Graves says. “I’ll have a team come down and work through any enchantments so we can remove it safely, if you don’t mind.”<br/><br/>“Of course, of course,” Grinlor says. “We don’t appreciate being involved in thievery.”<br/><br/>Graves knows that’s hardly the case - he can only imagine how many vaults here have stolen goods in them - but it’s not worth an argument. Goblins tend to take a neutral position when it comes to conflict between wizardkind and it’s easier that way, for everyone, considering the reasons for it.<br/><br/>After Grinlor has locked the vault, they return to the lift and Credence takes Graves’ hand again.<br/><br/>“What was it?” he whispers.<br/><br/>Graves smiles. “A blue diamond. It’s supposed to be able to heal any wound, even dark magic induced, and grant endless luck. Made by an alchemist in Ancient Rome,” he says. “But it can be easily lost, so the family that owns it keeps it safe and locked up in their home.”<br/><br/>“Or so they thought,” Grinlor says with a grim smile.<br/><br/>Graves nods. “Or so they thought. But the family that owns <em> that </em> vault isn’t particularly filled with dark wizards. Just a thief. Greed doesn’t always mean evil,” he says. “Sometimes it’s foolishness.”<br/><br/>“Wise words, Director.”<br/><br/>“Thank you, Grinlor,” Graves says dryly and smirks as he looks at Credence. “All in all, this was not nearly as exciting as the work I did in Boston.”<br/><br/>“Tina said you were trying to find vampires,” Credence says with a grimace. “I didn’t think they were real until she said it.”<br/><br/>“Werewolves too, Mister Barebone,” Grinlor says with a grin.<br/><br/>Credence sighs. “Queenie told me that,” he mutters.<br/><br/>Graves smiles. “They’re nothing to worry about,” he says. “Especially not in the middle of New York City.”<br/><br/>“Weren’t they in the middle of Boston?”<br/><br/>“Well, yes,” Graves says and chuckles as he squeezes Credence’s hand. “But most often they target no-majs because wizards have wands. Werewolves so rarely don’t take the Wolfsbane Potion and <em> if </em> they don’t, they are normally found in rural areas. Not the city.”<br/><br/>Credence nods, but doesn’t look completely reassured. “I don’t know how good I’d be at protecting myself with a wand if I ever had to.”<br/><br/>“Tina will teach you well, when that time comes,” Graves says. “She’s more than talented with Defensive spells. Offensive too.”<br/><br/>They lurch to a stop at the hallway and get off of the lift. “Thanks for your time, Grinlor,” Graves says as they walk out into the bank.<br/><br/>Grinlor moves behind the counter and smiles. “May we never meet again.”<br/><br/>“See you next week,” Graves says with a salute and gestures for Credence to follow him. “I’d say that went well. They may give you a hard time if you need to pull out anything without your wand, so try to find Grinlor, when you come here next.”<br/><br/>Credence nods. “I will,” he says. When they step outside into the cold day, Graves sighs to see that it has started snowing, but before he can complain about it, Credence asks, “How old do goblins live to be?”<br/><br/>“Around two hundred to two hundred-fifty years,” Graves says as they walk down the steps. He looks at Credence, who is gaping at him in shock and shrugs. “There are other magical beings that live much longer than that. Vampires <em> are </em> immortal.”<br/><br/>“If I wasn’t standing in Dragon Street, I’d think you were teasing me,” Credence says with a sigh. “I’m glad I live in New York.”<br/><br/>“I am too,” Graves says and smiles as Credence does, somewhat bashfully. He squeezes his shoulder before they walk down the street and into the much busier thoroughfare. “To the <em> Emporium?” </em><br/><br/>Credence nods and Graves leads him through the crowds, ignoring the furtive and worried glances everyone gives him. Seraphina tells him he has two faces - the one he uses on business and the other he uses in his personal life, and to start using the latter one more often if he wants to stop frightening people.<br/><br/>Graves hasn’t got any fucking clue how to switch between them and finds that whatever he looks like when he walks with purpose gets people out of his way, even when he can be bothered to waste time.<br/><br/>His face is his only face, as far as he’s concerned.<br/><br/>They enter the <em> Emporium </em> and Credence begins to cough. Graves pats his back with a wry smile, used to the smell of animals - owls in particular - and their unfortunate droppings.<br/><br/>There are numerous owls in perches all the way up to the ceiling and a multitude of other shelving and terrariums. Kneazles wander the shop as they please, their golden or silver eyes observing everyone passively. Puffskeins, only a few weeks old, gather in a large, furry lump in one of the wide tubs. The tubs are surrounded by children, Puffskeins popular among them, and Graves spots Modesty holding one of them. It’s startlingly pink, perfectly round, and crooning as she pets it.<br/><br/>“What is that?” Credence asks with some concern when they approach her.<br/><br/>“It’s a Puffskein, Credence! Queenie says they’re like lap dogs,” she says and holds the vibrating Puffskein out to him.<br/><br/>Graves thinks Credence only takes it out of his love for Modesty and gently pats it, looking like he’d much rather toss it across the room. Graves won’t tell him Puffskeins actually enjoy that sort of game.<br/><br/>“There you two are,” Queenie says as she approaches, a barn owl perched on her shoulder. “How’d it go?”<br/><br/>“Mister Graves blackmailed Grinlor into letting me open a vault,” Credence says mildly as he scratches the Puffskein a bit more confidently.<br/><br/>Queenie laughs. “That sounds about right,” she says and winks at Graves as he shrugs. “You’ll get a wand before long, honey, and then you won’t have no more trouble there. You done workin’ today, Mister Graves?”<br/><br/>“I wish that I could say that I was,” Graves says. “I wanted to go to Anita’s, but I should get back to the office. I need to send some Curse-Breakers into Gringotts.”<br/><br/>“He lives such an interesting life, don’t he?” Queenie asks Credence and grins as he nods. It’s the smile that he wears that’s going to do Graves in. “Well, don’t be a stranger, Mister Graves.”<br/><br/>“I don’t plan to be,” Graves says and smiles. “Enjoy the rest of your day. Miss Barebone.” He winks at Modesty as she beams at him, holding a lavender-colored Puffskein now. He looks at Credence and nods. “Credence.”<br/><br/>“Mister Graves,” Credence says, still smiling.<br/><br/>Graves leaves before it can begin to haunt him wherever he goes, but he’s not all that far down the street again, when he hears his name. It’s Credence, of course, and something about the way he’s running after him makes his heart leap and pound more quickly.<br/><br/>“I wanted to ask you,” Credence says breathlessly and licks his lips nervously. “If we’re going to get an owl… would it be okay if I wrote to you? I know Tina tells you how we’re doing. But I could tell you too.”<br/><br/>Graves couldn’t deny that request even if he wanted to. There’s a brightness to Credence’s eyes, a spark that’s been missing, and Graves is feeling a bit breathless himself.<br/><br/>“Of course,” he says. “I’d like that.” He straightens Credence’s coat and smiles to see his handkerchief in the breast pocket.<br/><br/>“I don’t have any paper,” Credence says, his cheeks pink.<br/><br/>Graves pulls out his wand and flutters it until a crisp piece of parchment is conjured, along with a pen. He catches Credence’s wide eyes and chuckles. “You’ll learn that eventually,” he says and scrawls the name of his apartment building. “The owl will be able to find me with that.”<br/><br/>Credence takes the paper and looks it over with a smile before he looks at Graves again. “Tina says Conjuration was the hardest magic she’s ever learned.”<br/><br/>He sounds impressed and Graves laughs. “Necessary if you want to become an Auror,” he says mildly. “By the time you’ve caught up with your schooling, you’ll be able to do it too.”<br/><br/>“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to do as well as you and Tina and Queenie think I am,” Credence says with a frown. “I’ve been a poor student my whole life.”<br/><br/>“No,” Graves says. “You had poor teachers.”<br/><br/>Credence looks at him and Graves looks back, in the middle of the bustling street, no one bumping into them, as if they’re in their own little world. Graves puts his hand on Credence’s cheek and thinks this may just break his heart as Credence’s eyes flutter shut.<br/><br/>“Let me know how this next week goes,” Graves says and smiles faintly as Credence looks at him again. “Are you still looking for that sun?”<br/><br/>“I think I’ve found it, Mister Graves,” Credence says softly, more contentment in his voice and relaxing his posture than Graves has seen so far.<br/><br/>“Good,” Graves says and brushes his thumb over Credence’s cheekbone.<br/><br/>And then he turns and leaves, because he cannot stay. Cannot do something foolish, cannot get any closer, no matter how much he wants to. There’s healing to be done still, but perhaps, if he continues to move at a steady pace, the day might come that he can make that leap.<br/><br/>If Credence wants to make it with him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This fic is basically the same formula as my other long Gradence one, but I had so many other themes I wanted to explore with it so here we are again!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Graves is immensely busy working for the next few days. They’re closing in on the underground network of dark wizards in Staten Island, beginning to formulate plans for rooting them out, and Graves hopes that it can be done before the New Year. They’ve grown at such a substantial rate that it <em> needs </em> to be done soon.<br/><br/>There are likely to be setbacks, but he’s prepared for the worst.<br/><br/>Graves leaves his apartment before the city has woken up most mornings and doesn’t return until the city is settling in for sleep and while he’s used to this, it does begin to take a toll on him, merely for the fact that most of his Aurors are following his lead.<br/><br/>He orders Tina to go home early almost every evening, because she has Credence and Modesty to worry about now, and getting Credence through what little schooling he can do without a wand.<br/><br/>One morning, as he’s pulling on his boots, he hears a tap at the window. He looks up and sees a small owl sitting on the windowsill, puffed up to protect itself from the cold. Graves frowns and double checks the time - not even five - and walks to the window, opening it.<br/><br/>The owl hops inside, a letter in its beak, and flies to the armchair, burrowing into the corner and shivering.<br/><br/>“Your feathers aren’t even in all the way yet,” Graves says with a frown. The owl sends him a reproachful look and he sighs. “Eager to please, are we?”<br/><br/>He’s an Eastern Screech Owl, half of his feathers rusty in color, the others still fluffy, grey down. Owls usually aren’t eager to begin carrying post until they’re fully grown, but some are more ambitious than others.<br/><br/>Graves lights his fireplace as he takes the letter from the owl, who hops off the chair and skitters across the floor to sit in front of the flames. He shakes his head and opens the letter, wondering what on earth Credence is doing writing him so early.<br/><br/><em> Mister Graves, </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> I apologize for my poor penmanship. </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> The owl’s name is Lionel. Modesty named him after the man that owned the grocery store we used to go to because he always snuck her taffy when Ma wasn’t looking. He seems very pleased with his name. </em><br/><br/>“Lionel,” Graves repeats with amusement and the owl steadily falling asleep in front of the fire gives a gentle hoot.<br/><br/><em> Tina said the best time to write to you would be before dawn or after eleven right now. She says you don’t know how to relax or take a day off. </em><br/><br/>“Thank you, Tina,” Graves mutters as he sits down in his armchair.<br/><br/><em> I don’t think I thanked you for your help at Gringotts. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry if I haven’t thanked you for everything you’ve done for me and Modesty. I’ve been told Chastity has been placed with a kind no-maj family now and I hope she can heal from what Ma did to her. I know she wasn’t evil at heart. </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> I want to ask you about Ma. I meant to when we saw each other, but I couldn’t. I want to know what’s going to happen to her. Tina says she doesn’t know yet, but I think she wants me to ask you. I don’t know when I’ll see you again but, if you don’t mind, it’s something I would like to talk about. </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> I’m sorry for asking this in a letter but it’s easier for me right now. </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> Do you know when I might see you again? </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> Soon, I hope. I enjoy spending time with you. </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> Yours, </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> Credence </em><br/><br/>Graves’ heart races a little faster at that. The last sentence is written more wobbly than the rest of the letter, as if Credence had grown nervous, or maybe Graves is imagining that.<br/><br/>He rereads the letter a few more times before gently folding it and setting it on the end table. He leans his head back on the armchair and looks up at the ceiling, following the lines of the dark wooden beams across it.<br/><br/>Mary Lou Barebone is still in the bowels of MACUSA, awaiting punishment, not something that has ever strayed far from Graves’ mind. He has nothing left to speak with her about, not until it’s decided, and he still wonders if Credence is ready for that conversation.<br/><br/>He frowns at that thought.<br/><br/>Credence wouldn’t ask, if he didn’t feel ready, and Graves should give him that respect by talking to him about it.<br/><br/>So Graves conjures up another piece of paper and a pen and writes his reply.<br/><br/><em> Credence, </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> Your penmanship is perfectly fine. </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> Lionel is a good name. He’s asleep in front of my fireplace at present, but I’m going to have to wake him in a moment. Tina is right, this is the best time to reach me, though I would rather you be asleep at this time. My schedule should change after the New Year. </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> You don’t have to thank me for anything. It’s been my pleasure to help where I can. Don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it, from any of us, because you deserve to feel safe doing so. </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> We can meet soon. I might have to sleep in my office for the next two nights, but after that, I’ll have the time. Sunday, at noon, outside of MACUSA, if you’re amenable. We’ll discuss Miss Barebone. </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> Yours, </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> Percival Graves </em><br/><br/>Graves wakes Lionel, who hoots unhappily, until Graves presents him with the letter. He takes it with newfound determination and flies out of the window, which Graves locks behind him. He smiles to himself as he watches the owl disappear into the dark morning.<br/><br/>Work calls, however, and he leaves his apartment, starting the day with a bit more determination himself.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>Graves is halfway through his Saturday when he realizes that Sunday is December 23rd. He has already put in orders for a celebratory end of the year bottle of liquor - or preferred beverage - for each of his Aurors some weeks ago, but he realizes that maybe, just maybe, he should get something for the Barebones.<br/><br/>He can barely spare a moment but he opens his office door and yells, “Goldstein!”<br/><br/>Tina hurries in a moment later. “Yes, sir?”<br/><br/>“Sit down.”<br/><br/>Tina frowns and does so, sitting across from him. “Sir?”<br/><br/>“I am in… a predicament,” Graves says slowly.<br/><br/>“On the case?”<br/><br/>“Christmas.”<br/><br/>Tina blinks before she relaxes in her chair with a sigh and chuckle. “Don’t make it sound so dramatic, sir,” she says and smiles when he shoots her a glare. “Are you talking about Christmas for Credence and Modesty?”<br/><br/>“I am,” Graves says. “I should get them something, shouldn’t I?”<br/><br/>“You don’t have to. Queenie and I have finished shopping for them,” Tina says with another smile. “But I’m sure they would appreciate it, if you really wanted to. Waited until the last moment, though, didn’t you?”<br/><br/>“That’s the predicament,” Graves says dryly. “I am not stepping foot in Dragon Street or a Christmas market today or tomorrow and certainly not on Monday. I wouldn’t even know what to get. What do eight year olds enjoy?”<br/><br/>Tina looks as if she pities him. “Toys, mostly,” she says. “Things to decorate their rooms. Chocolate. A lot of chocolate.”<br/><br/>“Toys,” Graves mumbles and opens his desk drawer. “If I gave you a Dragot, could you find her something for me?”<br/><br/>“You want me to pick it out? It would mean more… oh, alright,” she says as he gestures emphatically at the mess that is his office. “She was eyeing a stuffed Hippogriff, but we’d already gotten her so much.” She scoffs as she sees his unimpressed gaze. “It’s finely made, imported from England, and enchanted to act like the real thing.”<br/><br/>Graves thinks about it for a while before he digs out another few Dragots and gives them to Tina. “Then get that,” he says. “What about Credence?”<br/><br/>“Don’t you remember being his age?”<br/><br/>“At his age, I was chasing dark wizards around the country,” Graves says flatly. “I didn’t have interest in much else. Unless you think I should start his Pure Malt habit?”<br/><br/>Tina snorts and shakes her head. “Well…” she trails off, biting her knuckle. “Hmm, no, it’s too late for that…”<br/><br/>“For what?” Graves asks, leaning forward.<br/><br/>She gives him an amused glance. “The Quidditch World Cup, I was thinking, but tickets sold out a couple months ago.”<br/><br/>Graves blinks for a while before he furrows his brow. “Am I not Percival Graves? I’m sure I can bully my way into the match,” he says. “Does Credence even know what Quidditch is?”<br/><br/>“Of course he does, now,” Tina says. “Whether he’s interested in it or not, I can’t really say. He’s never even seen anyone on a broom. I don’t know if it’s a good idea to get a box with anyone involved with the Court…”<br/><br/>“Seraphina will have a box,” Graves mumbles, not really hearing Tina. “Most of my team will already be there. You know I would be too, if this madness didn’t keep happening.” He waves at his desk again.<br/><br/>Tina sighs. “Please don’t make him sit in the President’s box.”<br/><br/>Graves blinks as he looks up at her and frowns. He opens his mouth to argue, before deciding that she’s right. Seraphina will be surrounded by influential wizarding families and some members of the Court and that’s not an environment he would want Credence in.<br/><br/>“Not the President’s box,” Graves says and taps his finger against his lips. “Shit.”<br/><br/>“Going up to see her, sir?” Tina asks with a smirk.<br/><br/>Graves stands and shoos her out of his office. “You’re a genius, now get back to work,” he says and pulls on his long coat. “Thank you, Miss Goldstein,” he adds, when she’s near the door.<br/><br/>“You’re welcome, Mister Graves,” Tina says with a chuckle as she disappears back out onto the floor.<br/><br/>He locks his office up and makes his way upstairs to Seraphina’s office. He approaches the large purple doors and her personal Aurors murmur respectfully as they open them. Graves strides across the room and to her desk, sitting on the edge of it.<br/><br/>“Hello, Sera.”<br/><br/>Seraphina, dressed in lavender today, flips through a few pieces of paper. “The answer is no.”<br/><br/>“Hear me out.”<br/><br/>“What have you done now, Percy?” she asks tiredly, looking up at him. “It’s nearly Christmas and I have exhausted any whims you might have me indulge.”<br/><br/>“Thanks for that,” Graves says. “I need tickets to the Quidditch World Cup.”<br/><br/>Sera’s eyebrows shoot up. “Do you not have enough of your Aurors assigned there for the match?”<br/><br/>“I do,” Graves says. “This is… for my personal enjoyment.”<br/><br/>She slowly leans back in her chair with a growing smirk. “Who are you taking?”<br/><br/>“That is none of your business,” Graves says. “Remind me to fire Fontaine later.”<br/><br/>“He did seem very convinced you’ve met someone.”<br/><br/>Graves takes in a deep, fortifying breath. “Tickets. Two,” he says. “Please. <em> Not </em> in your box.”<br/><br/>Sera eyes him for a long while and he meets her gaze levelly. She eventually sighs, as if this is an incredible burden on her, and turns back to her desk. “Mister Ibex may actually shed tears,” she says. “Do you want bleachers or a box?”<br/><br/>Graves narrows his eyes. “A box. Private box,” he says. He doesn’t know how Credence will handle large crowds. “High enough up to see the action.”<br/><br/>“Do I get anything out of this?” Sera asks as she writes a memo.<br/><br/>“My eternal loyalty and gratitude,” Graves says as he pats her arm. “I have to get back downstairs.”<br/><br/>She flutters her hand in a dismissal. “I’ll send a memo when I’ve received word,” she says with a sigh. “Be careful, Percy.”<br/><br/>Graves stands and begins to walk to the doors. “Of what?”<br/><br/>“Falling in love.”<br/><br/>Graves pauses at the doors and looks back at her, furrowing his brow. “I thought that’s what being human was all about,” he says and smiles as he pushes the door open and leaves her office.<br/><br/>He makes his way back downstairs to his own office and feels far better than he had an hour ago. He can only hope tomorrow goes as smoothly.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>Sunday morning is far more chaotic than it should be. They have a breakthrough on the underground network of dark wizards and Graves has to spend four hours going over a strategic plan. They expect to hit them a few days before the New Year, if nothing else changes, time enough to get everyone prepared.<br/><br/>To study the faces and read the histories of those they now know are involved. Some, no surprise to Graves, are high members of wizarding society, and he suspects he’s going to be spending a lot of time in Court over the next few months.<br/><br/>Despite that, it will be less busy than it is now, and Graves is eager to merely declare them all guilty and lounge in his office doing nothing else for a while.<br/><br/>Noon comes quickly and Graves is glad to get out of MACUSA, breathe in the fresh air, even if it’s icy. It’s grey and stormy, of course, when he steps outside, but he still squints at the natural light and swears to himself that he’ll take lunch outside soon, before his body forgets what sunlight is.<br/><br/>Credence had written him back that he would meet Graves today and it doesn’t take long for Graves to spot him, across the street. There are too many no-majs and MACUSA employees streaming in and out of the building and Graves doesn’t blame him.<br/><br/>Gives himself a good scolding with the way his heart leaps as he crosses the street and Credence sees him and smiles, brighter than anything Graves has seen in days.<br/><br/>“Credence,” he says. “How are you?”<br/><br/>Credence nods, still smiling. “Good,” he says, and Graves knows it’s true. “Queenie offered to walk with me but it’s nice to walk the city by myself sometimes.”<br/><br/>“I know the feeling,” Graves says and smiles. “Lunch?”<br/><br/>“Sure,” Credence says. “Did you have somewhere in mind?”<br/><br/>“I did, in fact,” Graves says and gestures for Credence to walk with him. “Have you done any Side-Along Apparition yet?”<br/><br/>Credence sighs. “Unfortunately,” he says and shakes his head when Graves laughs. “Funny for you, but I lost my breakfast. I did better the last couple of times.”<br/><br/>“Where have the girls been taking you?”<br/><br/>“Not far. Just around the city, to different places wizards shop or dine at. Tina says it’s good practice for whenever we might leave the state to do anything.”<br/><br/>“And getting you used to the feeling for when you do it on your own,” Graves says and smiles as Credence nods reluctantly. “It won’t feel strange one day. Are you up for it now?”<br/><br/>“I think so,” Credence says. “I apologize if I vomit on you.”<br/><br/>Graves smirks. “As long as you’re sorry,” he says and walks into a small alley, holding out his arm. When Credence takes it, Graves doesn’t give him the chance to overthink it and Disapparates.<br/><br/>With a <em> crack </em> they appear in a wide hallway of a tall building, cream-colored tiles and handsomely painted almond walls. The windows along one wall overlook the city, still a beautiful sight, despite the greyness of it all.<br/><br/>Credence wobbles against him and Graves rubs his back until he nods. “Good man,” Graves says and leads him to the end of the hall, where a man dressed in a fine suit stands at a podium.<br/><br/>“Director Graves!” he says with great surprise, closing the reservations book. “I had no idea you would be in today! And with a guest? How wonderful. Your usual table?”<br/><br/>“Yes,” Graves says. “Thank you, Eldon.”<br/><br/>“Right this way, sirs,” Eldon says as he takes two menus and leads them into the dining room.<br/><br/>“Mister Graves, I think I’m underdressed,” Credence mutters as he looks around the numerous tables covered in white cloth, decorated with calla lilies and white roses, at the witches and wizards who are dining on fine meals and sipping champagne, decorated even more finely themselves.<br/><br/>“You’re not, don’t worry about that. And I would have brought you somewhere else,” Graves says quietly. “But I get privacy here. From the public and waitstaff. Establishments that don’t take themselves too seriously tend to be filled with people who stare at me - and would stare at you too, no matter the privacy level.”<br/><br/>Credence doesn’t say anything to that. They’re led to a table in the corner of the dining room, set on a small platform, with no tables to the left or right of it. It has a perfect view of the city without being too close to the windows and an equally perfect view of the main dining room, something Graves always prefers, no matter where he is.<br/><br/>After Eldon has pulled out their chairs, something that seems to unnerve Credence, he promises to fetch waters and hurries off.<br/><br/>Graves looks at Credence, who is frowning down at the unopened menu.<br/><br/>“I’m sorry, Credence, I was only thinking of privacy. If you’d rather go—”<br/><br/>“It’s not that,” Credence says, his cheeks reddening. “Well, not really. I understand wanting privacy in general. It’s just…” He sighs. “Do you not want people outside of a place like this to see us together?” he asks in a rush and seems to be struggling to maintain eye contact, as he looks up at Graves.<br/><br/>Graves stares at him for a moment. He opens his mouth, then closes it, but reaches forward when Credence begins to look away, grasping his wrist on the table. “Credence,” he says quietly and waits until Credence looks at him fully. “That… is the last thing I’m worried about. My only concern is someone attempting to figure out what we’re talking about because it’s an active case.”<br/><br/>Credence eyes him and looks as if he wants to believe it, but doesn’t quite yet.<br/><br/>“Credence,” Graves says again. “If the wizarding world knew about a no-maj in MACUSA’s cells and the reason for that, it would be all over the papers. I don’t want that for you, <em> at all, </em> and I don’t want that for the mess it would create for MACUSA. That’s all. I would gladly take you anywhere and not give a shit who sees.”<br/><br/>Credence looks at his menu again, his ears red, and Graves thinks he won’t ever get over the sight. “I’m sorry,” Credence groans and puts his hands over his face. “I do trust you, Mister Graves, but Tina is always saying what an important man you are and the appearances you have to keep up,” he says, his voice muffled. He drops his hands and grimaces as he looks at Graves. “I thought you might be embarrassed if someone like me was seen with you too often.”<br/><br/>“Someone like you, Credence?” Graves asks and shakes his head, smiling shortly as Eldon brings glasses of water with lemon and a mint leaf. He flicks the mint leaf away after Eldon leaves. “I consider myself honored that you want to be seen with someone like <em> me.” </em><br/><br/>Credence gapes at him and Graves shrugs, because really, he’s not going to lie, couldn’t even if he tried, and he knows Credence feels the same as he feels.<br/><br/>It’s how they go about it that’s important.<br/><br/>“But you’re… you…” Credence trails off and frowns. “You’re one of the most important men in America.”<br/><br/>“I can assure you that if I continue to do my job well, no one is going to care about my personal life, the way they haven’t cared about it for twenty years,” Graves says with a wry smile. “People care about actors and singers. Not Aurors and especially not Aurors who tend to give them bad news.”<br/><br/>Credence peers at him for a while before he sighs and nods. “Alright,” he says. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to sound… I don’t know... needy.”<br/><br/>“That’s alright,” Graves says, “but if you <em> are </em> done being needy, can you pass me the cocktail menu?”<br/><br/>Credence flicks his own mint leaf at Graves and he brushes it off of his shoulder and takes the cocktail menu. “Walloping Wampus,” he mutters. “That’s a new one.”<br/><br/>“What is it?”<br/><br/>“It would put me on the floor after two. Dragon Barrel Brandy, red currant rum, firewhiskey, and to top it off, a dash of Berry Ocky Rot.”<br/><br/>“I don’t know what any of those are,” Credence says, his eyebrows raised. “Are we drinking alcohol?”<br/><br/>“I am,” Graves says and hands the menu to Credence. “You can drink whatever you’d like.”<br/><br/>Credence flips through it. “Is a Lobe-Blaster as bad as it sounds?”<br/><br/>Graves smiles as he leans back and watches Credence. “It is.”<br/><br/>“I think I’ll have a butterbeer,” Credence says as he sets the menu aside. He shoots Graves a flat look when he laughs and opens the lunch menu. He frowns as he looks it over. “The only thing I’ve ever eaten on here is rice pudding.”<br/><br/>And Graves can do nothing but laugh even more at that, tipping his head back, until Credence holds up his menu to hide his own grin. “This was a bad idea,” he says after a while, still chuckling. “My apologies. But it’s an opportunity to try something new, if you’d like.”<br/><br/>Credence shakes his head and smiles. “What do <em> you </em> get here?”<br/><br/>“It’s the Christmas menu, so the duck. A must have.”<br/><br/>“Can we split it?”<br/><br/>“Absolutely.”<br/><br/>Lunch goes smoothly after that. It’s almost too easy, Graves thinks, speaking with Credence. Graves delights in Credence’s bashful way as much as he delights in his deadpan sarcasm, which he hasn’t gotten to hear much of. It’s incredible to hear from Credence himself about his progress, about what he does with his days.<br/><br/>He enjoys hearing about Modesty just as much, the new way that she looks at the world, and it warms him, how Credence speaks about her. He loves his sister dearly and Graves would like to spend more time with her himself, so he can see more of her joy, and remember less how his first glimpse of her in the church was a tragic one.<br/><br/>Graves asks Credence if his Healer has made any mentions about him getting a wand and Credence smiles then, a nervous but excited thing, and says that he can after the New Year, as long as Tina and Queenie continue to commit to teaching him.<br/><br/>It’s a relief. Credence deserves a wand, deserves his rightful place in their world, deserves to learn what all others his age already know. It will take a while, maybe even a few years, but Graves wonders what Credence will look like then. Not in body, but in mind.<br/><br/>It’s not until Graves is nearly finished nursing his double of Pure Malt Whiskey and their plates have long been cleared away that there’s a lull in conversation.<br/><br/>Credence is looking out of the window, his profile painfully beautiful, and Graves sighs gently to himself. He tips back the whiskey and sets the glass aside.<br/><br/>“Credence,” he says. “Do you still want to discuss Miss Barebone?”<br/><br/>“Yes,” Credence says without hesitation as he looks at Graves, though he’s paler now. “I can’t stop thinking about her lately. I just want to know.”<br/><br/>Graves peers at him and hums. “These situations are rare,” he says slowly. “To have a no-maj that knows enough about the wizarding world to be a danger. It’s uncommon these days for no-maj parents to deny their children their rights, if they are a witch or wizard. I haven’t seen it in my career, not to this extent.”<br/><br/>Credence nods. “What would you usually do about it?”<br/><br/>“Excluding no-maj parents, as they normally come around, it depends on how long the no-maj has known about the wizarding world. If they have only known for a few days, it’s easy to Obliviate them. Mary Lou Barebone has known for over a decade. Suspected for even longer, I imagine. She’s talked to people, inspired hatred in others, grown evil in the heart of her. More than just her life, your life and your sisters’ lives, were affected by her. That makes it harder to erase her memory. It can be done. We can take all of it out, but it leaves her with holes, holes she’ll never fill. Too many people know her in Manhattan and will remember, will try to talk to her. It won’t look good to the general population if she can’t remember anything.”<br/><br/>“Are you suggesting something more permanent?” Credence asks, his voice wavering, his fingers tightening on the table.<br/><br/>“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Graves says gently. “But yes. MACUSA would likely encounter other no-majs causing disruption if we put her back on the street with no memory. If we take her to a no-maj hospital and tell them she has amnesia and violent tendencies, they’re likely to keep her there. Permanently.”<br/><br/>Credence stares at him, breathing shallowly. “Mister Graves, they don’t treat patients like that well in those types of hospitals.”<br/><br/>“Do you want her treated well?” Graves asks with a frown. “Or do you want her to not be able to hurt anyone again?”<br/><br/>“It’s not that simple,” Credence says more angrily than Graves expects. “I don’t want anyone to be hurt because of me, not even her.”<br/><br/>“We can ensure she would not be hurt in the hospital,” Graves says. “Or altered any further.”<br/><br/>“It’s wrong to <em> alter </em> people at all,” Credence says with a fierce scowl. “You can’t play God.”<br/><br/>Graves frowns as he looks over Credence’s face. “There are certain things we have to do to ensure secrecy, Credence. Not all are pleasant. But it keeps our world safe.”<br/><br/>“Erasing people’s memories, even if they’re… even if they’re like her, it’s not right. You don’t give them any choice.”<br/><br/>“It’s the law,” Graves says. “Whether we like it or not, it’s the law and I’ve sworn to uphold it. Changing any aspects of the Statute of Secrecy is a long time off.”<br/><br/>Credence shakes his head and looks away. “You can’t ask me to decide her fate if that’s the only choice she has.”<br/><br/>“After everything she’s done to you—”<br/><br/>“I remember <em> every </em> moment of what she’s done to me,” Credence hisses, so angrily that their water glasses wobble in warning, the table shuddering beneath them. “I haven’t <em> forgotten, </em> Mister Graves. But I’m not going to… to sign off on what you want to do to her.”<br/><br/>Graves leans back a little and purses his lips as he stares at Credence. “Then what would you like to see, Credence? If you were in my shoes, what would you do?”<br/><br/>Credence sniffs and wipes his nose, looking out over the city. “I wouldn’t play God,” he says. “I’d put her in a no-maj prison. She can’t hurt anyone there, not really.”<br/><br/>Graves breathes in deeply and drums his fingers on the table. It’s illegal, putting her back out into the world, knowing what she knows. But putting her in a no-maj prison, while taking up more of MACUSA’s resources and time, is still a better option than letting her roam free. If she knew what was good for her, she wouldn’t speak about witches, lest she did get sent to a hospital.<br/><br/>But there’s always a chance. There’s always a chance that she speaks to the wrong person and Graves’ job gets harder and the choices get taken away from him. If Credence doesn’t like the idea of MACUSA altering his mother’s memory, he’ll like the idea of her necessary execution even less.<br/><br/>He rubs his eyes and sighs as he looks at Credence again. “I’ll see about getting that done. There are risks, Credence, to letting her continue knowing about you, about our world. I want you to understand that. Talk to Tina, if you’d like, get her opinion too. We can try this that way, if that’s what you would prefer.”<br/><br/>Credence is quiet again and Graves hates the tears that he can see in his eyes. He shakes his head. “She can’t be taught, can she?” he asks softly and looks at Graves, the hurt in his voice, in his eyes, palpable. “To not hate us.”<br/><br/>Graves’ heart fractures at that, just a little, and he wishes the truth was different, for Credence’s sake. “No,” he says. “She can’t. It’s not in her to be tolerant.”<br/><br/>Credence nods, as if he expected the answer, but he’s wounded by it all the same. “I think I’d like to go home now, Mister Graves.”<br/><br/>It’s not how Graves wanted the conversation to go. But it would have been too easy, he supposes, if it had. Credence is human, after all, with complex emotions. Graves has them too, despite what some people might think. He looks at the empty glass, only a hint of the amber liquid left, and thinks about his father handing him his first tumbler of Pure Malt Whiskey at fourteen years old.<br/><br/>Taking him out to the lake, fishing all day, sharing a bottle of the whiskey after. Listening to his father wax on and on about his father and his father before him, about their ancestors, about the great Graves family name.<br/><br/>Thinks about his father locking him in the dark cellar whenever he disobeyed, thinks of him burning rings onto his skin, from his favorite cigars, thinks about him killing Eliza, slowly and over time, without lifting a finger.<br/><br/>Nothing is black and white. They live in a world of shades of grey, ever evolving, and never stagnant.<br/><br/>“Of course,” is what Graves says. “Whatever you’d like.”<br/><br/>They leave the restaurant after Graves has paid and walk into the hallway outside of it. Credence’s head is bowed, his fists tight at his sides, and Graves wants to reach out, but he won’t.<br/><br/>“To the girls’ apartment?” Graves asks quietly.<br/><br/>Credence nods and takes Graves’ arm when he offers it. They Disapparate out of the building and into the alley next to the Goldsteins’ apartment building. Graves makes sure Credence is steady and steps away.<br/><br/>“Thank you for lunch, Mister Graves,” Credence says. “Merry Christmas.”<br/><br/>And then he’s gone.<br/><br/>Graves stares at the end of the alley and thinks about the two tickets in his pocket. He sighs and leans against the wall, letting his head thud back against it.<br/><br/>“Merry Christmas, Credence.”<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>Work has always been an escape for Graves. He applied to be an Auror the day after he left Ilvermorny and was accepted the moment his name landed on the Director’s desk. He hasn't stopped moving since then, ambition and tenacity built in him from a young age.<br/><br/>It was easier, when he was seventeen years old, to train and prove himself, so he could get out into the field. It was easier to do that than to stop and examine his life. After a few years of that, there was no changing it, and so he has carried on, working his way up the ranks. So he could control his department, make the changes he saw that it needed, make it greater than it’s ever been.<br/><br/>It’s how he operates on so little sleep. It’s how he’s just so damn good at what he does.<br/><br/>Of course, this was all before he met Credence Barebone.<br/><br/>He’s busier than he has been for months and yet he finds it hard to concentrate through the next day. If he’s in his office, he’s more likely to be shaking himself out of a stupor than he is to be doing any work.<br/><br/>So he spends his time on the floor and discusses December 27th as being the day. The raid, the seizure of dark wizards and any dark artefacts they may possess, the day the entire wizarding world will hear about.<br/><br/>Graves would normally send his team home early on Christmas Eve, but he can’t this year. It’s not until nearly nine in the evening that he calls it a day and sends everyone home with his gift of many glass bottles.<br/><br/>Tina stays behind, sitting at her desk as everyone else streams out with tired, but heartfelt wishes for a merry Christmas. Graves sighs as he sees her and walks to Hemlock’s desk, next to hers. He sits down heavily and scrubs at his eyes.<br/><br/>“Go home, Goldstein.”<br/><br/>“I will, sir,” Tina says as she looks at him with a frown.<br/><br/>He looks back at her and sighs again. “Credence spoke with you.”<br/><br/>“A nice conversation last night, yes,” Tina says. “He’d been quiet since he got back from lunch with you. Of course Queenie wouldn’t tell me why, just said we should wait for him to talk to us.”<br/><br/>“What do you think about it?”<br/><br/>“I think you could’ve had a little more tact,” Tina says, and before Graves can get worked up about it, she says, “but I’d normally agree with you. It’s such a delicate situation, isn’t it? Most of us wouldn’t have a problem with your idea, really, something that could be easy to forget once it was done. But she’s still his mother.”<br/><br/>Graves’ eye twitches a little at that, because he’s the one who gets to remember finding Credence in a pool of his own blood, stabbed by that mother. “Yes,” he says through gritted teeth. “I understand that. I told him I’d look into what he proposed.”<br/><br/>“Sending her to the no-maj prison,” Tina says and he nods. “It’s not a terrible idea. Comes with a lot of risks. He says you told him that but he’s still more comfortable with it. Have you talked to President Picquery?”<br/><br/>“Not yet,” Graves says and scoffs when she frowns at him. “Some of us want to get through the holidays without thinking about Mary Lou Barebone. She can wait until after we’re done with this case. Besides, it’s going to take us… weeks, if not months, to even get her in a prison. Seraphina isn’t going to be happy about it.”<br/><br/>Tina sighs. “No, I imagine she won’t be,” she mutters. “But she’s always been interested in how he’s healing.”<br/><br/>Graves doesn’t have the heart to tell Tina that Sera’s interest is about if Credence is a danger to himself or anyone else and she’ll drop her interest in him like a bad habit once he’s been deemed well-adjusted.<br/><br/>“You weren’t able to give him the tickets.”<br/><br/>Graves leans back and looks up at the ceiling. “No,” he says. “I wasn’t.”<br/><br/>“You still can, Mister Graves. Tomorrow, if you want. The building is going to be empty, you shouldn’t be here either. Why don’t you come by the apartment for dinner?”<br/><br/>“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Goldstein,” Graves says as he looks at her and smiles wryly. “When he’s ready to see me again, I can give the tickets to him. The World Cup isn’t even for two months.”<br/><br/>Tina squints at him. “You still plan on being the one to take him, right?” she asks suspiciously. She scowls when he opens his mouth. “If you think Credence is going to stay upset forever, you don’t know him that well. And he’s not mad at <em> you, </em> he just isn’t used to all of this. Just use some delicacy and common sense, Mister Graves.”<br/><br/>Graves stares at her, his mouth open, until she flushes scarlet.<br/><br/>“Sorry, sir.”<br/><br/>He laughs and shakes his head. “Go home, Goldstein, before I assign you desk duty for the next year,” he says and smiles as she mutters another apology. “Enjoy tomorrow, because you won’t have another enjoyable day until the New Year.”<br/><br/>Tina grabs both bottles of champagne he had given her and nods at him, hurrying off and out of the department. Graves watches her go and laughs again before he goes back into his office, locks up, and floos home.<br/><br/>And if he drinks straight from the bottle that night, surely no one can blame him.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>Graves spends Christmas scouring through no-maj and wizarding newspapers, all half-filled with Christmas nonsense, for any additional information he might be able to glean.<br/><br/>It’s around eleven in the morning when he hears a familiar tapping out in the living room and leaves his office. He’s expecting Brooks or Sera’s own owl, but he is surprised to see Lionel, holding a package that’s a bit too big for him with valiant effort.<br/><br/>Graves unlocks the window and takes the package from him before he can fall off the windowsill, but the sudden lack of weight blows him away in the winter wind anyway. Graves waits until he comes fluttering back up to the window and hops inside, looking exhausted.<br/><br/>“I think that may have earned you some treats,” he says and holds out his wrist until Lionel hops on to it.<br/><br/>He’s shivering again and Graves lights the fireplace, setting him on the ground in front of it and digging in his coffee table for owl treats. He gives Lionel a generous stack and moves to the armchair, looking down at the package, his name written on it by Queenie.<br/><br/>Graves eyes it for a while before he opens it and lifts up a piece of paper that’s lying on top. It’s a drawing, clearly by Modesty, of a unicorn and who he assumes to be Modesty herself riding it. It’s dancing across the paper, darting in between decorated Christmas trees, which twinkle brightly.<br/><br/><em> Merry Christmas, Mister Graves! </em> is written on the bottom in red and green.<br/><br/>He stares at it for some time, his heart warm and full in a way it so rarely is, and he lets out a shaky sigh as he sets it aside. There’s a smaller box that it sat on and he smells cinnamon as he pulls it out and opens it, looking at four of Queenie’s specialty pecan sticky buns, that Graves has been lucky to have once or twice when Tina brings them.<br/><br/>Graves closes that box and sets it aside and looks into the package again, where a letter sits, his name written on it in a familiar scrawl. He pulls out the letter and reads.<br/><br/><em> Mister Graves, </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> Merry Christmas. </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> I’m sorry I left so abruptly and without thanking you properly again. I will get better at thanking you. I understand what you were telling me, but I’m thankful that you understood what I was saying too. I hope you don’t think I don’t want to see you again, because I do. Tina says you’re going to be too busy to sleep until the New Year but I hope you can find rest somewhere. </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> I found this in Dragon Street and it reminded me of you. The man I bought it from said it was a few hundred years old and is enchanted to tell you when you’re going the wrong way, but I think he was just trying to convince me to buy it when I already planned on doing so. </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> I hope you like it. </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> Please stay safe. </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> Yours, </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> <em> Credence </em><br/><br/>Graves reads the letter a second time and brushes his thumb over Credence’s name. He sets the letter aside and pulls out the last item in the package, a small, slate grey box. He opens it and brushes aside a thin, soft piece of fabric covering a compass.<br/><br/>It’s a handsome thing, silver, heavy enough to be made of the actual metal, with a design carved into it. He frowns, because he recognizes the semi-faded design as a Phoenix, but the way it has been drawn, wispily, tells him it’s meant to be a Patronus. Graves opens it and is surprised that it’s as maintained as it is, as he suspects it truly is a few hundred years old.<br/><br/>There are runes, familiar to him, in place of the typical letters marking each direction. They are golden on a cream face and the orienting arrow is a rich, cherry brown wood. It’s the engraving that catches his eye the most, on the inside of the cover, and Graves can see that it is newly done and did not come with the compass.<br/><br/><em> Find the Sun </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Find the North Star </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Follow your Heart </em> <em><br/></em> <em> And you will find who you are </em><br/><br/>Graves brushes his finger along the words and breathes in deeply, a particularly alarming sensation in the back of his eyes. He blinks that away and leans back, holding the compass tightly in his hand.<br/><br/>After a long while, he gets up and moves himself to the sofa, laying down and letting the compass rest on his stomach as he stares up at the ceiling. It’s Christmas and he could be doing plenty of things - namely, getting ready for the next few days - but he thinks he’s earned a moment to himself.<br/><br/>He raises an eyebrow as Lionel flutters onto his leg and hops up along him until he curls up in the curve of Graves’ neck and shoulder, hooting gently.<br/><br/>“It had to have been warmer in front of the fire,” Graves mumbles.<br/><br/>Lionel hoots in contentment and buries his face under his small, still developing wing.<br/><br/>“Yeah, me too,” Graves sighs and closes his eyes.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>The Auror Department is a flurry of activity for the next two days. Graves makes everyone go through where they are supposed to be, what they are supposed to be focusing on, the force they’re to use, and what they need to do if something goes wrong. Because something always goes wrong.<br/><br/>Fontaine has ensured everyone’s Defense spells are sharp, their quickness assured, and on the evening of December 27th, they set out from MACUSA under the cover of darkness, the moon hidden by thick clouds. It’s cold enough to hurt when he breathes but Graves doesn’t particularly notice.<br/><br/>They Apparate to Staten Island and cover each entrance that leads to the main center where dark wizards have gathered. They’ve taken advantage of the Staten Island Tunnel, which the no-majs never completed the year before, and there are various homes on the island that lead into the sewers. Graves is stressed about the mere amount of locations they must hit all at once, because he knows the sort of chaos it can cause, but it also gives the criminals less time to warn each other.<br/><br/>Graves himself, with his team, is taking a manor in the middle of the borough. It looks like an old, dilapidated home to no-majs who pass by, but for anyone that enters the gates, it’s an old Victorian style manor, maintained well, by a prominent wizarding family. They’ve estimated that it branches off underground to numerous other safehouses.<br/><br/>He expects enchantments and protections, the most dangerous part of all, but not here. Underground, yes, but the wizarding elite won’t have any protections beyond those for no-majs, because they know what it looks like to MACUSA.<br/><br/>It starts with a knock.<br/><br/>The youngest son of the Craft household, Raine, just sixteen, answers. His eyes widen when he recognizes Graves, but Graves aims a Stunner over his head, when he sees a house elf creeping toward a door out of the foyer. Jauncey has grabbed the boy, silencing him, and Graves leads them inside.<br/><br/>The manor is taken easily, Missus Craft too frightened to put up much of a fight, but her husband is gone. They go underground and, despite knowing the layouts, there are twists and turns, made recently, that hold traps and cursed items, enchanted to attack intruders.<br/><br/>It's too narrow, too prepared for a raid, but Graves pushes on, because he knows what’s at stake if he doesn’t.<br/><br/>He kills two wizards that attempt to ambush him, but finds the next one ahead, with a powerful <em> Crucio </em> on one of his juniors. Graves has no qualms about killing him and moves to Hemlock. He’s dazed and in pain and Graves tells him to leave, because he is twenty-two and Graves won’t lose him due to the weakness a <em> Crucio </em> like that causes.<br/><br/>There are explosions ahead and Graves extinguishes the flames with an angry slash of his wand and kills four more combatants. His team reaches a set of three tunnels and with another wave of his wand, he smiles grimly.<br/><br/>“Multiples down each one,” he says and looks at Jauncey.<br/><br/>She sighs and shrugs. “I go left, you go middle, Night goes right?”<br/><br/>“Let’s do it. Don’t hesitate to call for help if you need it.”<br/><br/>“You don’t forget to, either, Percy,” Jauncey says and with a wink, she’s off.<br/><br/>Graves nods at Night before he enters the middle tunnel, dark and unfathomable.<br/><br/>There are stashes of various illegal artefacts around. Illegal alcohol trade, even, and potions, and various stolen items from around the country. Everything is to be sold on a dark market but Graves knows that the people whose pockets are lined the most are people he’s spent time with, at balls, in Court, at various wizarding events.<br/><br/>They will always think he’s one of them, but he doesn’t trust one damn prominent wizarding family, and hasn’t since he was a young child, part of one of the most prominent of them all.<br/><br/>Graves is about to round the corner as the tunnel turns sharply right when he feels an odd sensation against his leg. He pauses, holding his wand out at the ready, but reaches into his pocket and pulls out the compass. It’s vibrating and when he opens it, he sees that the arrow is pointing behind him, straining as it does, the cherry wood a vivid, angry red now. He stares at it before he slips it back into his pocket and backs away a few steps.<br/><br/>He casts his Patronus and tells it to go ahead and when its silver light begins to fade down the tunnel, there is a noise so loud and violent it can only be described as a roar. He knows that sound, knows what it means, and he’s running before he even hears the heavy paws behind him.<br/><br/>Adrenaline has been coursing through his veins, but he thinks it is a very particular sort of fear propelling him forward.<br/><br/>He can’t Disapparate from the tunnels - neither can anyone else, a risk criminals do love to take - but if he can get ahead of it, he knows he can kill it.<br/><br/>Graves nearly runs into Abagnale as he bursts from the tunnel. “Manticore!” he manages to shout and hears Abagnale curse as he begins to run alongside him. “Fiendfyre?!”<br/><br/>“Ready when you are!”<br/><br/>They stop and turn, holding their wants aloft and Graves casts the spell, as soon as he sees the golden eyes in the tunnel, the Manticore’s heavy steps echoing off the dirt walls.<br/><br/>Fiendfyre is not easy to control, impossible for most of his team, but Graves has had practice with it. He flicks his wand and a dragon erupts from the flames, his fiery wings spreading across the tunnel, meeting the Manticore as he roars, something strangely human in it. Roars in anger and fear, because Fiendfyre will end his life. When the roar ends abruptly, Graves shouts for Abagnale to cast the Charm that extinguishes the flames.<br/><br/>It goes deathly quiet in the tunnel and they light their wands and look at the body of the Manticore. There’s not much left of him, his feline body a burned husk, though some of his near-impenetrable skin is still intact. It’s the burned humanoid skull that unsettles them both.<br/><br/>“He chose his side,” Graves says grimly and claps Abagnale on the shoulder.<br/><br/>And they move on, because they still have work to do, and Graves thinks about his compass, telling him he was going the wrong way.<br/><br/>It’s a long night of rooting them all out. They lose some to the city, but Graves knows they will find them eventually, once everyone has been interrogated. There are plenty dead, but plenty alive as well, and when Patronuses finally start reaching him, telling him that his teams have survived and are done clearing out their targets, Graves is relieved.<br/><br/>A few of his Aurors have been taken to St Lyptus’, one with an unidentified curse cast on him, but the others are expected to survive, though some will not be back to work for days or weeks.<br/><br/>Graves gets back to the manor, where his Aurors are meeting and looks at the multitude of witches and wizards that are restrained, more than half of them with injuries of their own.<br/><br/>He smiles as he approaches a man he knows. “Mister Colibri,” he says and shakes his head. “Now this is a disappointment. What will your mother think?”<br/><br/>Hawthorn Colibri spits on his boot and Graves cleans it with a flick of his wand while tsking.<br/><br/>He’s only twenty-three, the son of an influential witch, who has contributed to the wizarding world in a variety of ways. She’s charitable, she’s intelligent, and she loves her son. When she’s not discussing the various inner workings of MACUSA and the International Confederation of Wizards with Graves, she is talking about her son, so accomplished, working his way up the ranks of minor Quidditch teams, with aspirations to play for the Finches.<br/><br/>He’s handsome, casually worn blond hair and green eyes, normally smiling charmingly, but today the ugliness of him is more apparent. Graves knows that it’s not always a parent’s doing, when wizards go dark.<br/><br/>“He organized half of this,” Fontaine says as he comes to stand near Graves’ side, bleeding from the arm. “Along with the Crafts.”<br/><br/>“Where’d you get the Manticore?” Graves asks curiously.<br/><br/>“Why? Did you kill him?”<br/><br/>“I did, in fact.”<br/><br/>Colibri glares at him and says nothing more.<br/><br/>“Get them out of here,” Graves raises his voice. “Curse-Breakers will be here soon. If you need healing, get to St Lyptus’ after finding placement for them. Come into work tomorrow with visible injuries and expect desk duty.”<br/><br/>Slowly, steadily, his Aurors Disapparate, off to various penitentiaries. Charges will be made formal over the next few weeks and Graves is already preparing for what he will tell the press when the sun comes up.<br/><br/>Barrows takes Colibri and Fontaine frowns at Graves after.<br/><br/>“There was a fucking Manticore?”<br/><br/>“There was,” Graves says. “Might have killed me, if I didn’t have help.”<br/><br/>Fontaine eyes him but nods. “MACUSA?”<br/><br/>“Home away from home.”<br/><br/>And they return there, when Curse-Breakers arrive on the scene and various other departments, as well, to help clean up any dangerous materials and artefacts around.<br/><br/>Graves will spend the few short hours he has left before meeting with the press, writing reports and wondering how in Merlin’s name he’s going to thank Credence.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>Of course, he hardly has any time to think for the next few days.<br/><br/>Speaking with the press takes hours and he gives interview after interview to different newspapers around the country. He stands by Seraphina’s side as she does the same thing and doesn’t flinch when his picture is taken for the thousandth time.<br/><br/>The beginning of the interrogations takes place in MACUSA and Graves authorizes the use of Veritaserum on some individuals that he doesn’t have the time to personally interrogate, breaking into their minds and taking what he needs. He sticks with those that orchestrated it all, the Craft family and Hawthorn Colibri.<br/><br/>Colibri has had some training in Occlumency, which is always a note of interest, because that means he’s learning it from someone. There are always those that reside further up the food chain, Graves knows, but it doesn’t take much to get what he needs. He signs orders for raids and arrests and prepares for another day with the press.<br/><br/>It’s almost 1927 before he realizes it. He’s scrawling the date, the last day of December, on one of the orders and pauses as he sees it. Another year down, another shakeup in the wizarding world, and yet it’s different than it has been before.<br/><br/>He’s never had anyone occupy the little space he has left in his head to think of his personal life. But Credence is always there, even if they don’t speak, and Graves has only had time to thank the Goldsteins, Modesty, and Credence for their gifts.<br/><br/>Tina asks him if he ever plans on leaving the office and he wants to tell her that he does plan to, soon, but the sheer amount of work to be done, charging everyone with things that will stick, will take time.<br/><br/>The Court won’t begin trials for a few months, more than likely, and Graves expects them to go through at least all of summer, if not longer. But those days will be easier, never before eight and never after five, and he will find the time to sleep properly then.<br/><br/>Around eight that evening, Seraphina comes into his office. The door is open, simply because of the amount of traffic he has in and out of the room lately, and he glances up at her from a file he’s compiling on a witch that aided the escape of dark wizards and witches the night of the raids.<br/><br/>“How long do you expect before everything is compiled?” she asks as she sits down across from him.<br/><br/>Graves raises his eyebrows. “Do you mean the files, the evidence, or the convictions?”<br/><br/>She smiles wanly. “The files, Percival.”<br/><br/>“Oh, good,” Graves says. “Two weeks, at most, with everyone building them at the moment.”<br/><br/>“Is there any more urgency at the moment?”<br/><br/>He frowns. “Not particularly. The ones we can’t arrest yet will take time to regroup. Some have fled the country, which makes them… not my problem, until other agencies get involved,” he says and sighs. “It’s paperwork now.”<br/><br/>“Good,” Sera sighs. “Go home.”<br/><br/>Graves groans. “I can’t leave early right now, Sera.”<br/><br/>“It’s <em> eight, </em> Percy, go home. You look awful. I need you in the best shape you can be at all times and this isn’t it.”<br/><br/>He rubs his eyes for a moment and sighs as he looks at her. “You know I can’t turn it off,” he says. “I can’t relax at home when I know I have this waiting for me.”<br/><br/>“So disperse some of it,” Sera says. She holds her hand up when he begins to protest. “I’m not saying it as your friend. I’m saying it as your President. Disperse some of this to Fontaine and Jauncey and go home before I send you on a sabbatical.”<br/><br/>Graves glares at her. “You’re going to send me into an early grave, is what you’re going to do.”<br/><br/>“I’m hoping to save you from one,” Sera says and stands. She hands him an official MACUSA envelope. “Go home. Watch the fireworks. Sleep for a few days. If you must come into the office, leave early. Remember how to be human again.”<br/><br/>He salutes her with the envelope. “Ma’am,” he mutters. “Credence Barebone wants his darling mother sent to a no-maj prison with her memories intact, by the by.”<br/><br/>Seraphina slowly raises her eyebrows. “And what do you think about that?”<br/><br/>“I think we owe him whatever the fuck he wants, honestly.”<br/><br/>Sera sighs as she gazes at him, her lips pursed in vague disapproval. But she nods and says, “Very well. It will take some finessing but we’ll see it done. Expect it to take some time as well.”<br/><br/>“These things always do,” Graves says with a short smile.<br/><br/>Sera gives him a bit of a look but she smiles faintly in return and leaves his office.<br/><br/>Graves opens the envelope and pulls out the crisp, purple paper. It’s his bonus of the year, deposited into his vault for him, with one or two more zeros than normal, and he hums, stuffing it in his desk.<br/><br/>He organizes his office so he doesn’t regret it later and looks out onto the floor, only seeing a few juniors struggling to keep up. He orders them home and makes sure they’re out of the department before he locks his office and floos home.<br/><br/>Graves would order food in, usually, on New Years Eve, but he’s too exhausted for that. So he makes dinner, three ham sandwiches, and sits on the sofa with a bottle of Pure Malt. He thinks he can make it to midnight, but he doesn’t, and it’s only the bang of fireworks that jerks him out of an uneasy sleep later on.<br/><br/>He squints as he looks out of the windows, not seeing them yet, before there’s another sound. Graves jumps a little, because this one comes from his front door, and he doesn’t think, in the seven years he’s lived here, that anyone has ever knocked on his door this late unless he was expecting them.<br/><br/>After standing, he pulls out his wand. He hears the bang of fireworks and sees their multi-colored shine splash across his apartment as he approaches the door. It could be someone lost, looking for a party, but he doesn’t think so, and after his last week, he’s not willing to let his guard down.<br/><br/>Graves steps to the side of the door and listens for a moment. When he hears nothing, he calls, “Yes?”<br/><br/>“Mister Graves?”<br/><br/>An entirely different sort of fear goes through him then. Graves’ heart pounds, not with adrenaline, but something more, and he has tucked his wand away and opened the door before he can think twice about it.<br/><br/>Credence stands there, bundled up against the cold, his cheeks red with it. There are tears in his eyes and Graves reaches for him, grasping his shoulders.<br/><br/>“What happened?”<br/><br/>Credence shakes his head quickly, blinking away the tears. “Nothing,” he whispers. “Nothing bad. I don’t know, I just… sometimes… sometimes it’s hard.”<br/><br/>Another firework explodes overhead and Credence flinches so violently at it that Graves suspects he understands what is wrong.<br/><br/>“Come here,” he says quietly and pulls Credence to him. Credence comes willing and once Graves has closed the door, he slumps against Graves’ chest. “Shh, shh. It’s alright.”<br/><br/>Graves pulls his wand out again and flicks it at the wall, silencing any noise from outside. The next few fireworks light up the apartment, but there is no resounding bang from them, and he can hear Credence’s shuddering breath of relief.<br/><br/>“She used to make me sit with my head on the table,” Credence says, his voice thick with tears. “She’d drop the Bible next to me for hours. I can’t… sometimes, the noises…”<br/><br/>“It’s alright,” Graves says as he rubs Credence’s back and stares out of the window. Part of him wishes that Credence would feel the same way about Mary Lou Barebone as he did the church, but he knows it would be unfair to expect it. “Do the Goldsteins know you’re here?”<br/><br/>Credence shrugs. “If the fireworks wake Modesty up, they might,” he says softly, his arms tightening around Graves, as if he thinks he will tell him to go home.<br/><br/>“Don’t want them wandering out in the cold looking for you,” Graves says. “Let me tell them you’re here at least. You can stay as long as you’d like, Credence.”<br/><br/>Once Credence has given him permission to do that, Graves sends his Patronus, with a bit of regret, if it scares any of the girls. But he doesn’t want them out on the street, not at this time of the night, not after the week he’s had.<br/><br/>“I’ve been seeing you all over the papers and hearing you on the radio,” Credence says as he pulls away, looking angry, for a reason Graves can’t fathom. “But it’s nice to see you in one piece still.”<br/><br/>“Oh. Credence,” Graves says and sighs. “I’m sorry. I should have made time to see you. It’s been… well, it doesn’t matter, I could have spared an hour or two.”<br/><br/>Credence shrugs as he wipes his eyes. “Tina told me what it’s been like,” he says quietly and looks at Graves. He looks as exhausted and worn down as Graves feels. “But it’s odd, to hear your voice and not see you.”<br/><br/>Graves moves closer, not entirely sure of his welcome, but when he holds his hand out, Credence takes it. “I’m here,” he says. “I’ve been ordered to stay home for a few days. I <em> did </em> plan on seeing you,” he adds, with a faint smile. “You can stay, if you’d like.”<br/><br/>“Tonight?” Credence asks, some sort of soft awe in his voice.<br/><br/>Graves thinks that hurts more than it should, that Credence doesn’t realize how welcome he is yet. “However long you want,” he says. “Spending my free time with you sounds a hell of a lot better than anything else.”<br/><br/>Credence smiles, a bit wobbly and his eyes still wet, but he nods. He moves closer, fisting his free hand in Graves’ shirt. His eyes fall to Graves’ lips and Graves thinks he can’t let that go unanswered.<br/><br/>He will think about the real world and its consequences another day.<br/><br/>Graves moves his hands to Credence’s cheeks and pulls him in until their lips brush together. Credence gasps and Graves takes advantage and presses more firmly, more insistently, and waits patiently for Credence to respond.<br/><br/>If Credence has any experience, he doesn’t know about it, but he doubts it, considering the sort of life he was living before they had met. And it’s clear this is new territory for Credence, but he follows Graves’ lead and returns the kiss with a passion that’s all his own.<br/><br/>When the kiss deepens and their tongues meet and Credence’s hand moves to Graves’ hair, Graves backs him into the kitchen wall with a gentle thud. They part only to take a breath and Graves trails his lips down Credence’s jaw, his neck, until Credence is gasping and quietly moaning. Credence’s hand moves to Graves’ back and when he digs his nails in, Graves knows he’s in danger of losing his head.<br/><br/>So he kisses Credence again, more gently, cupping his jaw and pulling away with a soft nip to his lower lip. Graves looks at Credence then, who is looking back, his eyes half-lidded, hair disheveled and cheeks pink. Lips red and full.<br/><br/>“Beautiful,” Graves sighs. “You’re beautiful, Credence.”<br/><br/>Credence’s cheeks darken further and he licks his lips. “So are you,” he says, voice pitched low. “Mister Graves, I—”<br/><br/>Graves silences him with another kiss, sweeter this time, and pulls away. “Please don’t call me that anymore.”<br/><br/>Credence blinks and then he breaks out in a smile that’s so damn <em> pleased, </em> so damn <em> happy, </em> that it would send Graves swooning, if he was a swooner. He even huffs a little laugh and Graves wonders how quickly someone can fall in love.<br/><br/>“Percival,” he says and grins wider. “Percy.”<br/><br/>“Better,” Graves says with a smile of his own. And he kisses Credence again, because he doesn’t know what’s good for him.<br/><br/>It’s not until Credence has his head tipped back against the wall and Graves is sucking a bruise onto the long, pale column of his neck, his new favorite place, that Credence tugs at the back of his shirt.<br/><br/>Graves pulls away, his hands pressed against the wall on either side of Credence’s shoulders. “Too much?” he asks breathlessly.<br/><br/>Credence laughs. “No,” he says. “Merlin no, not at all… I just… can we sit down, maybe?”<br/><br/>“That might be a good idea,” Graves says and smirks as Credence laughs again. They pull apart, but only enough to clasp hands and Graves leads Credence to his sofa. He sits, expecting Credence to sit next to him, but Credence has other plans.<br/><br/>He straddles Graves’ waist and doesn’t that just send all of his blood rushing downward, but he only lets Credence get away with kissing him for a moment before he pulls back again.<br/><br/>“I feel like I would be remiss in at least not mentioning the fact that this is going to seem like a bad idea to everyone not currently in this room,” Graves says as he wraps his arms loosely around Credence’s hips. “You’re nineteen and I’m… <em> definitely </em> not.”<br/><br/>“I’m twenty,” Credence says with a rather mischievous smile.<br/><br/>“Twenty?” Graves asks as he frowns. “But you were—”<br/><br/>“My birthday was on Christmas Eve.”<br/><br/>Graves opens his mouth, then closes it. He furrows his brow. “What the fuc—”<br/><br/>Credence kisses him again.<br/><br/>“Wait a damn minute,” Graves says when he can work up the courage to pull away again. “What do you mean your birthday was on Christmas Eve?”<br/><br/>“I didn’t want anyone to know,” Credence says, looking down at Graves’ chest, shy now. “Everyone has already been doing so much for me. Modesty told Tina and Queenie but I told them I’d tell you when we had lunch.”<br/><br/>Graves grimaces. “Ah,” he says. “I’m sorry, Credence. I’m sorry for hurting you.”<br/><br/>Credence shakes his head. “I think it was going to be inevitable, no matter what you said,” he says softly. “That sort of conversation is always going to hurt, at least a bit, I think.” He looks at Graves. “I’m sorry I ran away and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”<br/><br/>“Hmm,” Graves hums. “I think I can forgive you. And maybe make it up to you. <em> Not </em> the way you’re thinking,” he adds dryly when Credence raises his eyebrows. “I wanted to give you a gift that day too. Still do. And tell you something about the gift you gave me.”<br/><br/>Credence relaxes against him, though the weight of him on Graves’ thighs is distracting enough. “Did you like it?”<br/><br/>Graves chuckles. “Did I like it,” he sighs. “Credence, it’s beautiful. I don’t want to know how much you paid for a real silver compass. But what the shop owner told you about it was right.”<br/><br/>“That it tells you when you’re going the wrong way?” Credence asks with a frown.<br/><br/>“In a rather firm way,” Graves says and smiles. “I would have walked into the jaws of a Manticore if I didn’t have it on me during the raids. If it didn’t tell me I was going the wrong way.”<br/><br/>Credence stares at him and his eyes are bright again. “I’ve read about Manticores,” he says quietly, his voice wavering.<br/><br/>“Then you know it saved my life,” Graves says. “You wonderful, beautiful soul. Maybe you’re my angel.”<br/><br/>Credence flushes red and wrinkles his nose, but he’s smiling, an absurdly adorable look and Graves decides that <em> no, </em> he will not be recovering from this.<br/><br/>“When I saw it, it looked like it was glowing. The same way a Patronus does. But it was only metal when I picked it up,” Credence says. “I knew it was meant for you.”<br/><br/>Graves puts his hand on Credence’s cheek and runs his thumb along his cheekbone. “Thank you,” he says. “You seem to think you need to thank me for anything when I should be the one thanking you for everything.”<br/><br/>Credence doesn’t seem to know what to say to that and bends down so he can put his head on Graves’ shoulder. It’s not the most comfortable position - Graves is fairly sure Credence has an inch or so on him and he’s bony on top of it - but he squeezes Credence against him anyway, rubbing his back.<br/><br/>It takes some convincing for Credence to get up after a while and follow Graves to his office. He opens the desk drawer as Credence gazes around at the multiple shelves full of books, the board he has up of the plans for the raids there were conducted, and a few portraits on the wall, smiling and waving at him. Graves pulls out the envelope and joins Credence near the portrait of his sister. She smiles between them, her blue eyes bright and mischievous, her raven hair falling past her shoulders.<br/><br/>“My sister,” Graves says. “Eliza.”<br/><br/>“She doesn’t speak.”<br/><br/>“I had it painted after she died, so she wouldn’t,” Graves says. “She was a powerful witch but it doesn’t work quite the same if portraits are painted after death.”<br/><br/>Credence gazes at her before looking at Graves with a faint, but pained smile. “I’m sorry,” he says. “She looks so young.”<br/><br/>“Twenty-four when she died, yes,” Graves says. “She was six years older than me.”<br/><br/>Credence nods as he looks at Eliza’s portrait again. “She was beautiful.”<br/><br/>“She was,” Graves agrees with a smile, something he knows he wouldn’t have been able to do some years ago. “But if I’m going to kiss you again, I’d rather not do it in front of her.”<br/><br/>Credence laughs and nods, following Graves out of the office. They sit on the sofa, thankfully with Credence at his side, rather than on top of him, and Graves hands him the envelope. He opens it and pulls out the two tickets, bright red and white, with gold trim, the colors of the Fitchburg Finches.<br/><br/>It takes Credence a while of reading over them before he looks at Graves, blinking. “Are these tickets to the Quidditch World Cup?”<br/><br/>“Yes,” Graves says and feels nervous, something he’s not used to and rather detests. “I thought you might want to see your first match.”<br/><br/>“At the <em> World Cup?” </em><br/><br/>“...yes?”<br/><br/>Credence gapes at him. “Tina said these sold out months ago. Before we even met.”<br/><br/>“Well,” Graves says and shrugs, “I do believe you called me the most important man in America at some point.”<br/><br/>Credence swats him with the envelope and grins. “Modesty and I have been reading together every night,” he says. “We’ve read a few books on the history of Quidditch. It’s… I never thought I’d see a match. At least not any time soon.”<br/><br/>“Now you can see <em> the </em> match,” Graves says with a smile.<br/><br/>“Thank you,” Credence says warmly. “Really, thank you. Who should I take with me?”<br/><br/><em> “Alright,” </em> Graves says and yanks Credence closer so he can kiss him again.<br/><br/>Once Credence stops laughing anyway.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>When Graves wakes the next morning to the feeling of someone pressing soft, tentative kisses to his shoulder blade, it is only with great restraint that he doesn’t flail for his wand.<br/><br/>But Credence pulls away anyway. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly.<br/><br/>Graves turns his head and looks at him, blinking blearily. “Please do not ever be sorry for that. It’s only been… a long time,” he says and yawns. He rolls onto his back and frowns for a while. “Did I fall asleep?”<br/><br/>Credence is propped up on his elbow and he nods. “Mhmm. I was…” he trails off, blushing, and clears his throat. “Kissing your neck and you just…” He flutters his hand.<br/><br/>Graves rubs his forehead and laughs. “Fuck,” he says. “I’m sorry.” He rests his hand on Credence’s hip. “That was rude of me.”<br/><br/>Credence smiles and shakes his head. “No, it was probably a good thing,” he says. “Since you kept muttering it was a bad idea the entire time anyway. And you need sleep. Tina said she doesn’t think you’ve slept since the night of the raids.”<br/><br/>“I’ve slept,” Graves says defensively. “A few hours, anyway. Did you, through the night?”<br/><br/>“Better than I have in a while,” Credence says quietly as he looks down at his hand resting on the sheets. “I’ve, um…” He sighs. “I’ve missed you, if you don’t mind me saying so.”<br/><br/>And doesn’t that break his heart, the soft, unsure way Credence says it. Graves leans up and presses a kiss to Credence’s lips. “You don’t need to worry about what you say to me,” he says quietly. “I’ve missed you too. You’re on my mind every day, Credence.”<br/><br/>Credence smiles widely at that, but he still can’t quite meet Graves’ eye. He knows that’ll get better in time. Everything will get better in time. But maybe, if Graves does this right, Credence won’t feel ashamed or embarrassed while he’s with him. Credence feeling safe with him is the most important thing of all and it’s that thought that has Graves pulling away with one last squeeze to Credence’s hip.<br/><br/>He has all of the implications of a relationship with Credence to think about. They both do and they’ll need to talk about it at some point. Tina is likely to try and kill him when she finds out, and he doesn’t necessarily blame her.<br/><br/>Graves hasn’t… dated in a long time. When he was promoted to Director, his personal life was all but wiped out, except the occasional drinks with Fontaine. And before that, he was too busy working to become the Director and most of his romances were short lived flings.<br/><br/>That’s not what he wants with Credence. Graves wants more and it’s perhaps the most frightening thought of all. He’s never really wanted more with anyone, not since he was just a bit older than Credence, and he feels, if he doesn’t balance this all out, if he tips the scales, it will all come crashing down.<br/><br/>But he says none of this to Credence.<br/><br/>“Breakfast?” is what he asks instead.<br/><br/>“Yes, please,” Credence says and climbs out of bed.<br/><br/>Graves watches him with a soft sigh of regret and gets up himself, finding something casual and soft to wear, if he’s being forced into a day off.<br/><br/>They walk into the kitchen and Graves manages to find precisely nothing in his refrigerator or pantry. Nothing suitable for the occasion, anyway, he’s not going to feed Credence bran cereal.<br/><br/>“I think,” he declares, “I need to go shopping. We can go to that cafe in Dragon Street, it won’t be busy today. Half of the city won’t be up for a couple more hours.”<br/><br/>Credence is smiling fondly when Graves looks at him and he’s tempted to call that idea off immediately, but he’s distracted by a familiar owl flying to his window across the room.<br/><br/>“That’ll be Tina,” Graves mutters as he walks to the living room and opens the window. Lionel hops inside, fluttering his wings, looking more energized than usual, but still shivering. “This damn owl is going to die before he reaches his first birthday.”<br/><br/>“He’s always begging for something to deliver,” Credence says as he wanders over. Lionel hoots happily and flies to his shoulder, dropping the letter in his hand. “Oh, it’s for me.”<br/><br/>“Is it Tina?”<br/><br/>“Queenie,” Credence says as he opens the letter and reads through it. His ears steadily turn more red and he coughs, stuffing the letter into his pocket. “She says she’s happy you were able to help me and that we’re alright. She says, um… we’re good for each other.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles as he watches Credence fidget. “How do you feel about that?”<br/><br/>“Good,” Credence says with a frown. “I don’t know if Tina will feel the same way but Queenie says she’ll help when that time comes.”<br/><br/>“I am seventeen years your senior, whether you’d like to believe it or not,” Graves says and smirks as Credence shrugs. “I can see where she’s coming from. But you’re not a child. You might have lived life differently than most but… the sort of childhood you lead, the one <em> I </em> led, tends to make us grow up a bit faster. Not that I’m excusing defiling a twenty year old, I think that puts me squarely in dirty old man territory.”<br/><br/>Credence is shaking his head in amusement, smiling again. “I don’t think you’ve done any defiling yet, Percy,” he says. “You have to be awake for it.”<br/><br/>Graves waves his hand dismissively, even as his heart does a frankly silly little leap to hear Credence say his name like that. “All the time in the world for that,” he says. “Dragon Street?”<br/><br/>“That sounds good.”<br/><br/>After Graves has seen Lionel off with a short note from Credence, he gets dressed properly for the weather and takes Credence with him by floo. It’s not quite nine yet and the streets are mostly empty, but Dragon Street even more so. Term resumes in Ilvermorny tomorrow, though, so Graves expects it will pick up around lunch time.<br/><br/><em> Cove’s Cafe </em> is a cozy place, always smelling of fresh, strongly brewed coffee and buttery croissants and meaty sausages. It looks much like a cafe in Paris, delicate metal work painted white, with hardwood floors and cushioned chairs at small tables.<br/><br/>They’re seated, their drink orders taken, and Graves watches Credence look out of the window at the few passing witches and wizards. “Will you go to Jonker’s this week?”<br/><br/>Credence looks at him and smiles, something nervous behind it. “I think so. We planned for Thursday, because Tina is normally off on Fridays. They’ve been telling me a lot about wands. I’m not sure I understand half of what they say.”<br/><br/>“Wandlore and wandmaking are difficult things to understand,” Graves says. “A lot more goes into it than some people realize.”<br/><br/>“Queenie says the wand chooses the wizard.”<br/><br/>“That’s right. Wands have a way of reading us, our instincts, our strengths and weaknesses. Mine, for example, is made of ebony wood, which is fantastic for combative spells, Transfiguration, and tends to choose witches or wizards who have strong beliefs and purposes and don’t sway from them. I wanted to be an Auror before I even went to Ilvermorny and I never strayed from that. My wand greatly aids me.”<br/><br/>Credence looks rather fascinated. “What’s the core?”<br/><br/>“Wampus hair. Most of Jonker’s are,” Graves says with a smile at the waitress as their coffees are brought to the table. “Less temperamental than most cores. My wand works with me, rather than against me, so I’m glad for it.”<br/><br/>“I’ll probably get a troll whisker,” Credence mumbles, looking down at the metal work of the table.<br/><br/>Graves nearly chokes on his coffee and coughs for a moment. “A <em> what?” </em><br/><br/>Credence frowns as he looks at Graves. “Troll whisker. Queenie said that’s a core that’s used.”<br/><br/>“Maybe in the fourteenth century,” Graves grouses. “She was probably joking. You’re not going to get a troll whisker for a core. It’ll be Wampus, more than likely, Jonker makes very few other types. <em> Don’t </em> mention troll whiskers to him.”<br/><br/>Credence bites his lip, to hide a smile Graves suspects, and nods. “I don’t know if I’m going to have any strengths at all anyway.”<br/><br/>“You will,” Graves says. <em> “Troll whisker,” </em> he grumbles. “Your wand will help you figure it out. My sister’s wand was elm wood. Perfect for charms. You might be surprised by what finds you.”<br/><br/>“Will you tell me more about them? Wands?” Credence asks. “How they actually work?”<br/><br/>And Graves can’t say no to that. It’s something he’s interested in, has always been interested in, and knowledgeable about simply because of his career. Wands are very personal things, but his Aurors have to have them thoroughly inspected, not just to figure out their temperaments and strengths, but to see what sorts of spells have been used before they joined the training program.<br/><br/>He tells Credence what he knows in between bites of a greasy egg and sausage hash with toast and many long gulps of coffee. Credence watches him so attentively that he knows what he had said before was completely true - Credence had bad teachers. He’s eager to learn, he’s smart, and the questions he asks Graves are thought-provoking and come from a deeper desire to understand not just wands but human nature.<br/><br/>He asks questions about the sorts of witches and wizards that the wands choose and Graves tells him what he’s seen in his career. That a hawthorn wand with a dragon heartstring core may be used by a dark wizard and also may be used by an Auror. They curve to fit you, to fit your beliefs, your loyalties.<br/><br/>And yet there are some whose wands choose them that don’t end up being a matched pair after all, for a variety of reasons. Credence looks worried at this and Graves smiles as he tells him that it’s a rare thing. Most people will get a second wand only if their first is destroyed.<br/><br/>“That must be devastating,” Credence says quietly.<br/><br/>“Absolutely,” Graves says. “Like losing an arm. And even if it’s replaced, it never is quite the same as the first one.”<br/><br/>Credence nods and sips his coffee. “Can wands… make people turn bad?”<br/><br/>“No,” Graves says softly. “You are who you are at the heart of you. A wand is only a tool.” He reaches across the table to squeeze Credence’s wrist and smiles as Credence does as well.<br/><br/>They finish breakfast and leave <em> Cove’s Cafe </em> and leisurely walk down Dragon Street. “Anything else you want to take a look at while you’re here?” Graves asks.<br/><br/>Credence shrugs. “I wouldn’t mind seeing <em> Quality Quidditch Supplies,” </em> he says. “I haven’t gone in yet. Maybe I can learn something before the match.”<br/><br/>“Sounds good to me,” Graves says and leads Credence to the corner of the main street. It’s a large store, painted white and red and with huge windows, showing off a variety of brooms and protective wear.<br/><br/>It’s warm inside and smells of wood and leather, brightly decorated with numerous teams’ colors, the large posters on the wall all connected to make a stadium around the circular shop. Witches and wizards on brooms dart between one poster and the next, dodging Bludgers and tossing Quaffles, or snatching a Golden Snitch, the stands erupting in silent applause.<br/><br/>Graves shows Credence a high quality set of the five balls and answers any questions he has. He is familiar with some things from reading but there’s something beautiful about it, seeing the joy and brightness in eyes as he experiences it.<br/><br/>“Are brooms hard to learn how to ride?”<br/><br/>“Not really,” Graves says. “You’re normally taught in your first year at Ilvermorny, if you haven’t been doing it at home already, for wizarding families. Second years can join the teams.”<br/><br/>“It seems… violent, for twelve year olds.”<br/><br/>“...I suppose it can be,” Graves shrugs. “I’ve never heard of anyone dying outside of a professional match though.”<br/><br/>“Dying?” Credence asks weakly.<br/><br/>“Well, the last death was in 1357, so I’m not altogether worried about it happening again anytime soon. You’re more likely to break something,” Graves says and smiles in amusement as Credence grimaces. “Mending bones is easy. A few seconds at most.”<br/><br/>“It still has to hurt,” Credence mutters. “I don’t think I’m interested in trying Quidditch. Queenie says I have the build of a Keeper, but I don’t think so.”<br/><br/>Graves shrugs. “You do, actually. Keepers need to be able reach farther than the other players. Seekers tend to be small, for increased speed,” he says as he looks Credence up and down. “We’d only have to work on your confidence.”<br/><br/>“Thanks,” Credence says dryly. “I’m eager to see the match but I think that’s as far as my interest goes.”<br/><br/>“Fair enough,” Graves chuckles. “You’re going to be learning a lot in the next couple of years. You’ll find where your strengths are and what you might want to do for work. I’m <em> very </em> interested in what you find interesting.”<br/><br/>Credence’s cheeks are pink but he looks pleased. “Do you plan on sticking around for a couple of years, Mister Graves?”<br/><br/>Graves smiles and shrugs a shoulder. “Unless you find a very rugged and handsome Venezuelan Quidditch player to run off with, I plan on sticking around for a while yet.”<br/><br/>“Rugged and handsome Venezuelan Quidditch player,” Credence laughs.<br/><br/>“Have you seen the team this year?” Graves asks and shakes his head. “Heartbreakers, all of them.”<br/><br/>“You don’t see the way people look at you, do you?” Credence asks with amusement and a bit of awe.<br/><br/>Graves frowns. “I’ve been seeing the way they look at me for years now. Oftentimes they run to the other side of the street while doing it.”<br/><br/>Credence shakes his head, as if despairing over Graves’ stupidity, something that’s becoming a little too commonplace for his liking. “I suppose you would see the people who fear you over all the others that stare at you for…” he trails off and gestures. “You.”<br/><br/>“I… think I’m going to take that as a compliment,” Graves says slowly. “One might even infer you think I’m handsome.”<br/><br/>“Maybe even a heartbreaker.”<br/><br/>“I don’t plan on breaking any hearts,” Graves says as he looks over the latest broom model, hovering in the air over a display with all of its statistics listed on it. “Maybe helping to mend a very specific one, if I might be able to.”<br/><br/>Credence smiles as he looks up at the broom, his hand brushing against Graves’, until their fingers intertwine. “You’re already doing a good job at that,” he says quietly. “In the hospital room, when I took your hand… it felt right, you know.” He looks down at his shoes, smiling still, but shy. “I’ve never had anything feel right like that before.”<br/><br/>Graves looks over Credence’s face, so sharp, so beautiful, so unused to carrying joy. He moves his hand to Credence’s cheek and waits until Credence meets his eyes again.<br/><br/>“May I take you home?”<br/><br/>Impossibly, it seems, Credence’s smile grows all the brighter. He nods, laying his hand over Graves’. “Yes,” he whispers. “Please.”<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>They ease into it slowly.<br/><br/>From getting back to the apartment and the gentle walk to the bedroom, to closing the door and taking in the soft, late morning light cast across the bed. The sheets, grey and satin, have never looked quite so tempting.<br/><br/>Credence unbuttons Graves’ shirt and pushes it off, his hands trembling, but he keeps going, determined. Once the shirt falls to the ground, Graves takes his hands and kisses his knuckles until Credence is breathing shallowly. His eyes are red-rimmed and his lips are flushed a deeper color, but when Graves asks if he wants to stop, Credence shakes his head.<br/><br/>“Never,” he says.<br/><br/>His hands are more steady when he takes off Graves’ belt, when he unbuttons his trousers, when he pushes them down Graves’ hips.</p><p>This is a bad idea, but he can’t bring himself to care.<br/><br/>Graves eases Credence out of his coat but when he reaches for his shirt, Credence grasps his arms and shakes his head.<br/><br/>The fear, the embarrassment in his eyes, takes Graves’ breath away. The idea that he must hide something he fears Graves will turn away from hurts, hurts them both, and Graves wishes he could banish that fear with a wave of his wand.<br/><br/>He knows it’ll take more than that.<br/><br/>He puts his hands on Credence’s cheeks and kisses him, deep and passionate, and only pulls away when Credence moans. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, trailing his lips down Credence’s jaw, to his neck. “Every inch of you. Nothing that life has left you with will turn me away. Nothing that life has left you with is shameful either, Credence. It is what it is.”<br/><br/>Credence is shivering, fear and something else, something more primal, and Graves runs his hands along his back, digging his fingers in when he gets low enough, pulling Credence against him. Credence keens and Graves thinks he will drown in this, drown in everything that is Credence Barebone.<br/><br/>“It’s ugly,” he whispers anyway, his head tipped back as Graves nibbles gently against his skin. “Oh, Merlin.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles against him before he pulls back and looks at Credence’s dark eyes, pupils wide with arousal. “It’s not ugly to me,” he says. “May I show you?”<br/><br/>Credence stares at him, looking for something, perhaps. A lie, Graves thinks, that he will eventually reveal, confirming all of Credence’s worst beliefs about himself. But Credence cannot find what’s not there and he takes in a deep, fortifying breath, and nods.<br/><br/>Graves steps back and watches as Credence unbuttons his shirt, closing his eyes and grimacing as he pulls it off, letting it fall to the floor. His chest and abdomen are mostly untouched, but his shoulders and arms have not been spared lashings. Graves knows the worst of it is on his back.<br/><br/>He steps closer again and moves his hands from Credence’s shoulders down to his arms, rubbing them, warming his cool skin. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, Credence. You have no idea what you do to me.”<br/><br/>There are tears in Credence’s eyes and Graves kisses the corners of them before he takes his lips again, kisses him with everything he’s got and hopes it says what he can’t, not yet. When he touches Credence’s back, he stiffens, but as Graves kisses him, as he whispers praises against his lips and into the crook of his neck, Credence steadily loosens, steadily relaxes.<br/><br/>The belt comes off gently and the trousers follow and once Graves is sure he has Credence’s ardent approval, he pushes his underwear off his hips. Graves looks Credence up and down, shaking his head and letting out a shuddering breath of his own.<br/><br/>“Perfection,” he says and smiles as Credence blushes. “Lay on the bed. On your stomach. Please.” He brushes his thumb against Credence’s cheek. “I won’t hurt you.”<br/><br/>“I know you won’t, Percy,” Credence says, his smile wobbly, his eyes still bright. But he does turn and slips into bed, pushing his arms under one of the pillows as he rests his head on it, looking at Graves.<br/><br/>“Fuck,” Graves sighs as he looks over Credence’s pale, scarred back, his skin smoothing out over his ass and down to his thighs. Credence grimaces and Graves smiles. “Fucking beautiful.”<br/><br/>The scars aren’t ugly. But they make him angry, inevitably, he thinks, and this is the last moment that he wants to think about Mary Lou Barebone, but he does. Wishes she could see Credence, not at this moment, but who he is without her, who he is growing to be.<br/><br/>Graves gently climbs onto the bed and moves between Credence’s leg with a bit of nudging so he spreads them. Credence’s ears turn scarlet and Graves chuckles as he leans down, kissing his shoulder. He runs his hand along Credence’s side and hip, brushing his thumb along a particularly jagged scar. He braces himself then and maps out Credence’s back, with his lips, his teeth, his tongue, listening to each hitch in Credence’s breath, feeling every little shudder and tremble, embracing each moan.<br/><br/>“Percy,” Credence gasps, his voice wavering, thick with heady emotion, overwhelmed.<br/><br/>“I’m here,” Graves says and moves further up, kissing Credence’s temple. “Let me take care of you. Roll over.”<br/><br/>It takes some coaxing, as Credence seems to be a boneless mass, but he’s trembling all over again once he’s on his back beneath Graves. He gently eases down, so they’re pressed skin to skin, and Credence’s eyes flutter shut as he moans. His eyelashes brush against his cheeks and Graves presses a kiss to his lips, to his jaw, and makes his way down again.<br/><br/>“Percy, I—”<br/><br/>“Shh, shh. It’s alright,” Graves says as he kisses his way down to Credence’s chest. “Is it alright?” he asks as he pauses and looks up at Credence.<br/><br/>Credence glances down at him before he groans, throwing his arm over his eyes. “Yes,” he croaks. “I’m just not sure if I’m about to burst into flames or something worse. Something better. I don’t know.”<br/><br/>“Sounds like a pickle,” Graves says and takes Credence’s nipple into his mouth, sucking and brushing his teeth along it.<br/><br/>Credence yelps in surprise, which steadily drifts off into a moan, his knees pressing tightly against Graves’ sides. “That’s not helping,” he pants.<br/><br/>“I can always stop,” Graves says as he looks at Credence again.<br/><br/>“Don’t you dare,” Credence says and gives Graves such a frosty glare that he can’t help but laugh.<br/><br/>“Yes, sir,” he says and continues his ministrations.<br/><br/>By the time he reaches Credence’s belly button, Credence’s cock is lying full on his abdomen, leaking heavily and Graves is sure it’s the second most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. Looking up at Credence, as he presses his lips to the velvety skin, and sees Credence flush, breathing heavily, fisting at the sheets and staring right back… <em> that </em> is the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.<br/><br/>It’s going to haunt him at work, he knows, but that’s a problem for later.<br/><br/>Graves takes Credence into his mouth and though it’s been a while since he’s done this, he plans to make it the best damn blowjob he’s ever given.</p><p>Credence’s hips buck as he cries out, his cock pulsing in Graves’ mouth, and he throws his head back against the pillow, his damp hair sticking to his forehead.</p><p>But Graves can’t stare at him forever and closes his eyes, wrapping his hand around the base of Credence’s cock, moving up and down and occasionally stopping to lick away his precum. He pulls away when Credence seems close and after a few times of doing this, when Credence begins cursing with fervor, he stops teasing. And when he gently fondles Credence’s balls, wet with his own spit, his moans become more guttural.</p><p>“Percy, I can’t, I can’t— I’m going to…!”</p><p>The cry that Credence lets out, broken and high pitched, goes straight to Graves’ own cock and he moans around Credence and swallows what he gives him.</p><p>Credence is breathing shallowly, loosening his grip on the sheets, and when he looks down at Graves, he shudders, lips parted and rosy and so, so beautiful.</p><p>Graves lets him go with a pop because he knows it’ll make Credence blush and blush he does, covering his eyes.</p><p>“Oh, God, I can’t… did you…? Oh…”</p><p>Graves chuckles as he slides up again, pressing a kiss to Credence’s shoulder before he lays next to him, propped up on his elbow. He runs his hand along Credence’s stomach as he watches him recover.</p><p>“Was that alright?”</p><p>“That was… wow,” Credence whispers and looks at Graves, sated with pleasure but still with some embarrassment. “Do you want me to…?”</p><p>“Don’t worry about me for now,” Graves says and smiles when Credence frowns. “Really. I got as much out of that as you did.”<br/><br/>Credence doesn’t look reassured. His eyes fall to Graves’ collar and Graves reaches up, brushing his fingers along Credence’s jaw and cupping his cheek.<br/><br/>“This isn’t something I give to you and you pay me back for.”<br/><br/>Credence nods as he turns his cheek more into Graves’ hand, his eyebrows knitted together. When he opens his eyes and Graves sees the tears there again, he’s concerned for a variety of reasons. Credence has been entrenched in his mother’s religion, forced into learning he should hate witches, but Graves knows he doesn’t. But it’s been there for nearly his entire life and Graves wonders if he pushed too far, too soon.<br/><br/>“Credence,” he says softly as he brushes a tear away. “Are you okay?”<br/><br/>“I’m fine,” Credence whispers. He smiles, such brightness to it, a contrast to his tears. “I’m happy. I’m not really used to that.”<br/><br/>Graves sighs a little in relief and leans in to press a kiss to his Credence’s forehead. “Good,” he says. “We’ll do what we can to keep you smiling.”<br/><br/>Credence huffs a sheepish laugh. “To keep looking for the sun.”<br/><br/>“That’s exactly right. I have a couple reminders of my own now to do the same thing.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>🙈</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They manage to make it all the way through dinner, after going shopping together, before Tina and Queenie show up. Tina stares suspiciously at them as Graves has the dishes clean themselves and Credence sips on a glass of wine. He’s grimacing with each swallow and Graves is tempted to get him something else, but he seems determined to power through it.<br/><br/>Graves had asked Credence to maybe, just maybe, try to not think about how their day had gone, but he sees how much he has failed at it five minutes into the Goldsteins’ visit. It’s written all over Queenie’s face, but she’s grinning, not judging, and occasionally bursts into laughter that ends with Credence as red as a cherry tomato and sipping at his wine a bit faster.<br/><br/>“Why are you all acting so strangely?” Tina finally bursts out. When they shrug at her, she sighs and shakes her head. “Are you planning on coming home tonight, Credence?”<br/><br/>Credence looks like he plans on answering that a little too honestly and Graves squeezes his shoulder. “Of course he is,” he says and smiles as Credence shoots him a wounded look. “I’m off tomorrow again, on Seraphina’s orders. I know we haven’t talked about it, but I thought I’d take him to see Wilton Lyre, if that’s something you two would be interested in.”<br/><br/>Tina gasps. “You know him?”<br/><br/>Graves frowns. “Of course I know him, I know everyone.”<br/><br/>Queenie giggles. “You think he’d say yes? I mean, Teenie and I are capable enough, but Teenie is so busy at work and I think Modesty might get bored to death.”<br/><br/>“What are we talking about?” Credence asks, a bit weakly. “Who is Wilton Lyre?”<br/><br/>“Oh, he’s only one of the most accomplished wizards on this side of the Atlantic, honey,” Queenie says with a grin. “He retired so many years ago, but he’s still very influential. He worked at MACUSA and handled a whole lotta different certification courses and presided over the HARE exams at Ilvermorny every year.”<br/><br/>Credence raises his eyebrows. “You mean… he might teach me?”<br/><br/>“I would always prefer to do it myself,” Tina says. “I’d love to teach you, Credence, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t want your education to take ages because I’m so busy and Queenie is only one person. And we all have your sister to look after. This might help you advance at a much faster pace. If it’s something you would want. We’d still help you with homework and everything.”<br/><br/>Credence opens his mouth, then closes it, blinking between them. “I think it would have been nice for a little warning,” he mutters as he side-eyes Graves. “But if it might help everyone…”<br/><br/>“It <em> is </em> up to you,” Graves says with a smile. “Sleep on it. If you’d rather learn from Tina and Queenie, that would be fine.”<br/><br/>“That’s right, honey. Whatever you’d like.”<br/><br/>Tina smiles. “Like I said, I’d be happy to. But learning from the best…” she trails off and sighs longingly. “We always wished he would have taken the Headmaster position at Ilvermorny.”<br/><br/>“I don’t think someone like that would be interested in teaching someone like me,” Credence says, paler than usual. “I know so little about magic.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles wryly. “If I know Wilton Lyre, he’ll think you’re his greatest challenge yet.”<br/><br/>Credence doesn’t look very reassured by that. “I’ll think about it,” he says slowly as he looks at Graves. “When will you…?”<br/><br/>“Let’s plan for nine,” Graves says. “He lives upstate these days on a large farm.”<br/><br/>“Breeding Thestrals and Hippogriffs, last I heard,” Tina says.<br/><br/>Graves nods. “He always knew how to run a lucrative business,” he says and smiles as Queenie and Tina nod in agreement. He looks at Credence. “You’ll like him, Credence. He’s an interesting character.”<br/><br/>Credence nods. “Alright,” he says. “What are Thestrals and Hippogriffs?”<br/><br/>“A bit like horses, honey,” Queenie says. When Tina frowns, she shrugs. “I said a bit.”<br/><br/>“Quadrupedal magical creatures,” Graves says with a smirk. “You’ll see.”<br/><br/>Credence doesn’t look reassured by that either but he nods and finishes his wine. He fetches his coat and pulls it on and Graves opens the front door to show the Goldsteins and Credence out.<br/><br/>“Bye, honey,” Queenie says with a wink, after Tina has muttered <em> Mister Graves. </em> “Be good tomorrow.”<br/><br/>“I’m always good,” Graves says and smiles as he looks at Credence. He squeezes his hand as Queenie ushers Tina down the hallway, pointing out the new - definitely not new at all - shade of paint on the walls. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He presses a kiss to Credence’s knuckles and gently lets him go.<br/><br/>“Good night, Percy,” Credence says softly, something so kind and gentle about him, his eyes warm with something that Graves feels in his own chest.<br/><br/>Graves watches him go, following Tina and Queenie down the hall, and eventually closes his door. He leans back against it, rubbing his hands over his face, thinking of all the ways he’s fucked and not giving a damn about any of them.<br/><br/>He smiles instead and awaits the morning.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>When Graves picks Credence up from the Goldsteins’ apartment at nine, he has Credence change out of his loafers into a sturdier pair of boots. Credence looks wary, but Graves is too familiar with Wilton to think he’ll be sitting them down for tea.<br/><br/>Modesty is thrilled to see him and he’s surprised when she hugs him, patting her on the back. She mentions that Credence talks about him <em> all the time, </em> to Credence’s embarrassment and Graves’ amusement. But they eventually leave the apartment and walk outside of the building into an alley.<br/><br/>Graves isn’t surprised when Credence reaches for him, reaches back himself, and gently pushes him against the brick wall as they meet for a kiss. Credence’s hands scramble across his back until he digs his fingers in, something Graves finds delightful, and when they break apart for air, Graves merely turns his attention to Credence’s neck.<br/><br/>“Good morning,” he murmurs against his skin.<br/><br/>“Good morning,” Credence says breathlessly. “Do we have to go upstate?”<br/><br/>Graves laughs as he pulls back. “Yes,” he says with a smirk. “We’ll go to my place after. You’re going to have some questions.”<br/><br/>Credence sighs, but he’s smiling. “Alright,” he says. “I’m ready when you are.”<br/><br/>Graves places a softer, sweeter kiss to Credence’s lips before he pulls back and offers his arm. “This might be a bigger jump than you’re used to.”<br/><br/>“I think I’ll be okay,” Credence says with a smile.<br/><br/>So Graves Disapparates out of the alley and to <em> Lyre’s Farms, </em> just outside of Dutchess County, more isolated beyond a thick forest of trees. No-majs are turned around when they come near, the farm a broken down barn to their eyes, but as Graves passes the magical barrier with Credence, he hears him gasp.<br/><br/>The farm stretches over a large, open plot of land, separated into four huge pastures. One pasture is covered in dense trees, surrounded by fog, while another pasture is green and sunny, a contrast to the grey skies above them. The grass is thick there, with Hippogriffs trotting through it, or diving their beaks into a wide pond, filled with fish. The other two pastures are covered in snow, one for breeding in the spring, he knows, and the other for more opportunistic hunting, rabbits and rats making their homes under the snow.<br/><br/>Graves leads Credence up the pathway leading to the manor that’s set in the middle of the pastures, large and beautiful, built in a colonial style.<br/><br/>“Those are Hippogriffs?” Credence asks as he looks at the sunny pasture. “They’re… are those <em> beaks?” </em><br/><br/>“They’re part horse and bird,” Graves says with a smile. “Proud things, but loyal.”<br/><br/>There are dappled greys, palominos, buckskins and chestnuts, and one solid black, their crests and wings glossy and shining in the sun and Graves smiles as he sees Credence gaping at them.<br/><br/>“Where are the Thestrals?”<br/><br/>Graves looks at the woods and points. “In the fog. They prefer a dense covering of trees and to not be so visible. They look fearsome to most and are considered unlucky, but they’re just as loyal as a Hippogriff. Very intelligent, very shy.”<br/><br/>They’re nearly to the front door when Credence grabs Graves rather abruptly and points. “Is that them?”<br/><br/>Graves looks at the pasture and blinks as he sees the tell-tale eyes of the Thestrals, eerie and white, at the edge of the trees, hearing their approach and growing curious, no doubt. One steps out of the fog, stretching its wings and Graves looks at Credence as he stares, his mouth open.<br/><br/>“They look like skeletons.”<br/><br/>It’s a dense sort of pain that Graves feels in the very heart of him. He watches Credence and aches for him, aches the way he will always ache, for what he has seen, what he has gone through in his life. He wants to ask, wants to ask who Credence has watched die, but he doesn’t want to ruin the awe that’s on his face, to remind him of such things.<br/><br/>And, he knows, living a poor life on the streets of Manhattan, it’s not hard to come across someone dying.<br/><br/>“I don’t think they’re fearsome. They’re beautiful,” Credence says quietly. “Aren’t they?”<br/><br/>“They are,” Graves says and squeezes Credence’s hand. “To those that give them a chance.”<br/><br/>They continue to the front door and Graves knocks on it. It’s opened rather quickly by a house elf, who peers between him and Credence, his green eyes narrowed.<br/><br/>“Master Wilton,” the house elf calls into the house loudly, something they don’t normally do. “Your worst enemy is here!”<br/><br/>Graves raises his eyebrows and laughs. “Is that what he calls me now?”<br/><br/>“Is it the Picquery, Graves, or Poults type?” a booming voice yells back.<br/><br/>“It’s the Director, sir!”<br/><br/>“Blast that man!”<br/><br/>The house elf backs away and Graves sees Wilton coming down the impressive staircase in the foyer, a spring in his step, despite the fact that he’s approaching ninety.<br/><br/>“Percival Graves!” he says as he walks to the door. “You’re going grey, my boy.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles wanly. “I hadn’t noticed,” he says. “What did Missus Poults do to you?”<br/><br/>“Darn woman,” Wilton says with a scowl. “She’s been after Ironeye, as if I’d ever sell him.”<br/><br/>Wilton Lyre is a tall man, completely white-haired with an equally white handlebar moustache, and there’s a strength to him, as there always has been. He’s tall in stature and big in personality and Graves has always been fond of him, whenever he’s not making his job difficult.<br/><br/>“Missus Poults breeds Hippogriffs on the west coast,” Graves tells Credence, as he gapes between them.<br/><br/>Wilton shakes a finger at Credence. “And don’t you think about buying from her or I’ll consider adding you to my list! Wilton Lyre, my dear boy,” he announces as he offers his hand for Credence to shake.<br/><br/>Credence does so and winces a little as Wilton shakes his hand with enthusiasm. “Credence Barebone, sir.”<br/><br/>“Barebone?” Wilton asks, inspecting Credence closely, his blue eyes narrowed. “I don’t know that name.”<br/><br/>“You wouldn’t,” Graves says. “I’ll tell you more about that. I have an offer to propose.”<br/><br/>“Do you now?” Wilton asks suspiciously. “Hmm… well, I suppose we best take a walk then.” He reaches for a walking stick near the door and comes outside, his house elf closing the door behind him. “This way, chaps, I was just about to check on Windwing. She’s due any day now.”<br/><br/>Graves winks at Credence and claps him on the back as they set off after Wilton’s brisk pace. Graves is never particularly interested in how the Hippogriff or Thestral breeding trades are going, but he listens as Wilton tells them and is glad for it, in the end, as Credence looks immensely interested.<br/><br/>They’re led to the sunny pasture and shed their coats before they walk inside, the air warm, like springtime.<br/><br/>“They’re not dangerous, are they?” Credence asks as a jet black Hippogriff trots up to them, his head held high, his eyes the purest silver, looking between Graves and Credence.<br/><br/>“Very dangerous, Mister Barebone,” Wilton says. “If you offend them. This is Ironeye, sire to a great many award-winning sons and daughters. Give him a bow.”<br/><br/>“A what?” Credence asks weakly as Ironeye turns his attention to him expectantly.<br/><br/>“A bow,” Graves says and smiles as he bows. “They expect one, if you’re to keep their company. Keep your eyes on your boots.”<br/><br/>Credence does so, rather awkwardly, and when Graves stands straight again, he does so as well. Ironeye appraises him before he turns and trots off, flicking his tail.<br/><br/>“Reserving his judgment for later,” Wilton says with a proud smile. “But he’ll come around.”<br/><br/>They set off again and Graves notices Credence dabbing at sweat on his forehead with a handkerchief and recognizes it as the one he gave him in Dragon Street. He smiles, his heart warm in a rather indescribable way, and looks ahead as they approach where most of the herd is.<br/><br/>A very pregnant Hippogriff, dappled grey with dashes of russet in her crest and wings, is lying down near the fence, casually flicking her tail as she watches them approach, her eyes golden and curious. Wilton pats her beak as she chirps happily and gobbles the dead mouse he pulls from his pocket.<br/><br/>“What do you have to propose to me, Director?”<br/><br/>“Mister Barebone needs a tutor.”<br/><br/>Wilton turns a sharp eye on him, frowning as he looks at Credence. “A tutor, eh? I’m retired for a reason, you know,” he says. “What certification are you looking for?”<br/><br/>“Umm,” Credence says.<br/><br/>“He needs work from the ground up,” Graves says. “An entire education.”<br/><br/>Wilton’s white, bushy eyebrows fly up on his forehead. “No Ilvermorny, lad?”</p><p>“No, sir, I was… I didn’t know I was a wizard until early November,” Credence says, his cheeks red.<br/><br/>“How very unusual,” Wilton says, but Graves recognizes the spark of interest in his eyes. “That’s a story I wouldn’t mind hearing. Ah,” he adds, when Credence’s eyes dart away. “Perhaps not today. What’s your wand like, Mister Barebone?”<br/><br/>“He’ll be getting it on Thursday,” Graves says as he watches Credence.<br/><br/>“Not even a wand yet?” Wilton asks and shakes his head. “You bring me that wand, Mister Barebone, and your story, and we’ll talk about tutoring then. I’m an old man, you see, and I don’t like wasting my time.”<br/><br/>Credence meets Wilton’s eyes and frowns. “I don’t think you’d be wasting your time, sir. Mister Graves wouldn’t have brought me here if he thought you would be.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles and when Wilton looks at him, an eyebrow arched, he shrugs. “You heard him,” he says.<br/><br/>Wilton barks a laugh and claps Credence heavily on the shoulder. “Consider my interest piqued,” he says with a sharp smile. “We’ll see what you’re made of soon, lad. Off you two go, I have an actual appointment with a buyer soon. You see, some people bother to make appointments, Director.”<br/><br/>“I’m a very busy man,” Graves says as they walk across the pasture. “I don’t have time to make appointments.”</p><p>“No,” Wilton says dryly. “You never have. Barged into my office one day,” he tells Credence. “Twenty years old and demanding I certify him as a Duelling Master.”<br/><br/>“Duelling Master?” Credence asks as Graves sighs.<br/><br/>“Lets you form Duelling Clubs. He just wanted to show off how good he is at dueling to all of his friends.”<br/><br/>“That is blatantly false,” Graves says mildly. “I didn’t have any friends.” He smiles. “Formed the best damn Duelling Club in New York, didn’t I?”<br/><br/>“And gave it to Gale Pegas,” Wilton says moodily. “Of all the pompous wizards in New York…”<br/><br/>Graves smirks. “Unfortunately blessed with a Dueller’s mind,” he says. “There was no one better to give it to.”<br/><br/>“Why did you give it to someone else?” Credence asks.<br/><br/>“I didn’t have time for it, once I was promoted to Senior Auror.”<br/><br/>“You’ll work yourself to death one of these days, Director,” Wilton says as he opens the gate and leads them out after they’ve grabbed their coats. “Take a vacation before you’re as white as I am.”<br/><br/>“I hear Bora Bora is nice this time of year,” Graves says as he smiles at Credence, who seems to be in some sort of agreement with Wilton.<br/><br/>They say goodbye then and walk down toward the gates leading out of the farm so Graves can Disapparate.<br/><br/>“That went better than I thought it would,” Graves says. “He’s normally hard to impress. Well done.”<br/><br/>“I don’t think I did anything impressive,” Credence says with confusion. “Even Ironeye wasn’t impressed by me.”<br/><br/>Graves laughs and holds out his arm. “Don’t worry. Ironeye can wait,” he says. “Someday you’ll see what everyone sees in you, Credence. There will be no holding you back after that.”<br/><br/>Credence blushes as he takes Graves’ arm and Graves takes them back to Manhattan, appearing with a <em> crack </em> in the alley next to his apartment building.<br/><br/>“Is your apartment protected from Apparition?” Credence asks. “That we have to come out here?”<br/><br/>“Yes,” Graves says. “Well, the whole building is. Not just because no-majs are in it, but because, if people find out where I live, I have a lot more to worry about.” He smiles. “No one can hit it with any damaging spells either.”<br/><br/>Credence nods. “Do you have to get permission from MACUSA to do that?”<br/><br/>“You do, technically. Very few people <em> need </em> to do it,” Graves says as they walk into the lobby of the building. “Ilvermorny has even more enchantments on it, very old magic, for obvious reasons. It looks suspicious if it isn’t a MACUSA-owned building or MACUSA employee so most people don’t bother asking for permission if they cast the spells. Not good for them if we ever need to pay them a visit.”<br/><br/>“It’s going to be hard to get used to,” Credence says as they approach the lift. “Being with someone like you.”<br/><br/>Graves laughs. “Should I worry about that sentiment?”<br/><br/>“No, no,” Credence says and bumps his shoulder against Graves’. “It just… always surprises me, when I hear you talk about things like this. How everything works. How your job works. How important you are. I’ve never been with anyone before and you’re the one that walks into my life.”<br/><br/>They step onto the lift when the operator opens the doors. “You almost sound bitter,” Graves says mildly. “Like you think it was bad luck.”<br/><br/>“I don’t,” Credence says as he looks at Graves. “And I’m not bitter, not at all. Just afraid that it will all come crashing down, like everything else has.”<br/><br/>“It won’t,” Graves says. “We’re rebuilding, Credence. Stronger than before. And,” he says, smiling as the operator coughs a little next to them, “with a bit of magic, everything will hold steady for as long as you want it to.”<br/><br/>Credence smiles in the way that says he can’t help it and looks away, nodding. They step off the lift on Graves’ floor and go into his apartment. Graves pours himself a glass of Pure Malt, not caring about the hour, as Credence toes his boots off and sits on the sofa, looking around, like he’s committing the place to memory.<br/><br/>Graves hopes he is. Hopes that Credence becomes more of a permanent presence here, when it is not all so brand new.<br/><br/>After he’s gotten Credence a butterbeer, which he seems to enjoy about as much as Graves enjoys Pure Malt Whiskey, he sits on the sofa next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders.<br/><br/>“What did you think of Wilton Lyre?”<br/><br/>“He was… interesting,” Credence says as he leans into Graves’ chest. “He could really teach me everything?”<br/><br/>Graves nods. “An astoundingly accomplished wizard. He’s made more strides than most, here in America, for wizardkind. One of the best students Ilvermorny’s ever seen. He’s traveled the world and learned from different wizarding cultures. He’s invented a few potions that they use at St Lyptus’ just because he thought those areas of healing needed some improvement,” he says and smirks. “He’ll be the guest of honor, next to Seraphina, at the World Cup.”<br/><br/>Credence stares at him for a while before he groans, covering his eyes and shaking his head. “I don’t deserve any of this,” he says. “Hey!” He jumps as Graves pinches his side.<br/><br/>“Stop saying that,” Graves says firmly. “You deserve the world, Credence. In <em> our </em> world, most people tend to want to help each other because they’re capable of it. You better get used to it.”<br/><br/>“How would you feel, thrown into a world you never knew existed and the most important people in it decided you were worth spending time with?”<br/><br/>“Honored?” Graves says and laughs as Credence shoots him a dirty look. “I know it’s overwhelming. The people you’ve met are only people, Credence, including me. We bleed the same as everyone else. Don’t put us - especially me - on a pedestal. That’s the easiest way to get disappointed.”<br/><br/>Credence is quiet for a while, but he eventually nods. “Alright,” he says and sips on his butterbeer. “I am honored, you know. It means a lot.” He sighs. “And I did like Mister Lyre. I liked his farm.”<br/><br/>“Good,” Graves says. “Because that’s probably where you’re going to be spending a lot of time.”<br/><br/>“What if he says no, after I’ve gotten my wand?”<br/><br/>“He won’t,” Graves says and takes a drink of his whiskey. “He’s probably already planning lessons.”<br/><br/>Credence smiles. “How long do you think it’ll take, before I’m at where I should be?”<br/><br/>Graves shrugs. “With Wilton teaching you? Less than three years. I’d say closer to two.”<br/><br/>“How can I fit in seven years worth of education into two?”<br/><br/>“Your magic has been repressed. It’s going to be strong, once you have a wand to channel it through. You won’t run into the same limitations as an eleven year old. Spellwork will come naturally to you,” Graves says and smiles as Credence frowns. “Not to mention no summer breaks. You’ll see, on Thursday.”<br/><br/>“Can I come see you that day?”<br/><br/>“You damn well better.”<br/><br/>Credence laughs and kisses him then and after that, well, they don’t speak much after that.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>Graves only sees Credence once more before Thursday. He’s busy compiling evidence and fielding any other cases that need his attention and dodging Tina’s suspicious glances.<br/><br/>That’s going to be a problem soon, he suspects, and while he won’t really blame her if she’s angry, he’s fully prepared to defend his position, to defend Credence’s, though he suspects Credence will do that himself. He’s not a child and it rubs Graves the wrong way still, the way she pities him.<br/><br/>Tina has a good heart, a good head on her shoulders, he wouldn’t trust her with Credence if she didn’t, but he doesn’t want to see that relationship damaged either.<br/><br/>He manages to convince Credence to stay with the Goldsteins and only meets him on Wednesday for a quick bite to eat before he’s back in MACUSA.<br/><br/>Credence mentions that he doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep that night and Graves doesn’t tell him that he doesn’t think he will be able to either.<br/><br/>So, he thinks, he certainly can’t be blamed for his short temper on Thursday. Half of his Auror department stays out of his office because they know what’s good for them. Except Fontaine, who antagonizes him on purpose, just for the fun of it, until Graves hits him with <em> Tarantallegra. </em> <em><br/></em> <em><br/></em> Once Fontaine has finished cursing and straightening himself out, he opens the office door and tsks. “Beneath you, Percy,” he says, then, “Miss Goldstein.”<br/><br/>Graves looks up as Fontaine leaves and Tina appears in the doorway, frowning. “What did you do to Mister Fontaine?”<br/><br/>“Nothing,” Graves says briskly and smiles as he sees who is standing behind her. “Hello, Credence.”<br/><br/>Tina steps inside and so does Credence, his cheeks red from the cold and his hair windswept. The brightness of his eyes is unmistakably excitement, pleasure, and the special sort of wholeness that comes with finally being complete as a wizard, the day one gets his wand.<br/><br/>“How’d it go?” Graves asks as he leans back in his chair. There’s something right about seeing Credence in his office for the first time.<br/><br/>“Good,” Credence says as Tina gestures for him to take one of the chairs across from Graves’. He sits heavily and bites his lip to contain one of his broader smiles. “Mister Jonker was very kind.”<br/><br/>“Very understanding too,” Tina says as she sits in the other chair. “It only took a few wands before Credence’s found him. It was… umm… well, it was something.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles as Credence looks at him. “Huh. I thought it just might be,” he says and smirks as Credence rolls his eyes. “Let’s see that wand.”<br/><br/>Credence pulls out his wand and hands it to Graves and Graves doesn’t miss the tremble in his hand. He can only imagine how overwhelming it must have been and regrets that he couldn’t be there to witness is.<br/><br/>“Larch wood,” Graves says as he holds the wand up to examine it. It’s light in color, such a contrast to his own, but warm, the mother-of-pearl inlay subtle, but rather artful, swirling up from the base to nearly halfway up the wand. “Core?”<br/><br/>“Umm…” Credence says and clears his throat. “Thunderbird tail feather.”<br/><br/>Graves nearly drops the wand and blinks as he looks at Credence, then at Tina.<br/><br/>She’s smiling widely and shrugs. “Jonker visited Wolfe and a Thunderbird let him have some of her tail feathers. He hasn’t made many wands with them,” she says. “But this one…”<br/><br/>“Shit,” Graves says as he laughs. He looks at Credence and sighs. “This is an <em> excellent </em> wand, Credence.”<br/><br/>“Mister Jonker explained the wood and core to me,” Credence says and still looks overwhelmed. “I didn’t think…” He shakes his head. “It was so warm when I touched it. I waved it and… well, I thought I did something wrong, because gold and silver sparks came out of it. They were like fireworks but in the shape of feathers.”<br/><br/>Graves looks over Credence’s face with a warm smile and hands him his wand back. “It was happy to find you,” he says quietly. “Well done.”<br/><br/>“Thank you,” Credence says with a smile as he looks at his wand. “Mister Jonker said larch wood is sometimes trickier to handle than other woods, but he didn’t seem to think I’d have a problem with it.”<br/><br/>“I’ve never seen Mister Jonker so excited before,” Tina says. “We’re very proud of you, Credence.”<br/><br/>Credence bites his lip and nods. “Thanks,” he says. “I think I’m proud of myself too.”<br/><br/>Graves chuckles. “Good man,” he says. “Thanks for coming,” he adds to Tina.<br/><br/>“Of course. We registered it with Gringotts too,” she says with a bit of a wry smile. “Credence said that Mister Lyre wanted to see him when he got his wand. When do you think you’ll go again?”<br/><br/>“This weekend,” Graves says as he looks at Credence. “Sound good?”<br/><br/>“Yes,” Credence says as he pockets his wand, seeming reluctant to do so. “I hope he approves of my wand too.”<br/><br/>“He will,” Graves says and Tina nods in agreement. “Tina, will you give us the room?”<br/><br/>Tina eyes him a little but she sighs and nods. “Of course, sir,” she says and stands, patting Credence on the shoulder. “I’ll be at my desk. Just let me know when you’re ready to go back home.”<br/><br/>“Thank you,” Credence says. He watches her go and when the door is shut, he sighs and looks at Graves, shaking his head. “I think she knows. She keeps asking about you. Queenie told her to stop, but she told me later that we’re going to have to tell Tina soon.”<br/><br/>Graves taps his finger against his lips. “Mhmm,” he hums in agreement. “It would be respectful to do so anyway, while you’re living with her. Expect some resistance at first, but she’ll come around.” When Credence frowns, Graves shrugs. “You can’t blame her. You’ve been through a lot in a short period of time.”<br/><br/>“I get the feeling she thinks you’re taking advantage of me.”<br/><br/>Graves won’t tell Credence he feels that way half the time too and that he really has no idea if he’s doing the right thing by Credence. He knows what he feels for him is real, but sometimes it’s hard to know if Credence realizes the depth of what he’s choosing, by being with Graves. Being with anyone, really.<br/><br/>“I’ll make sure she doesn’t give you a hard time. She can give me that,” is what he says. Credence looks upset and he shakes his head. “I can handle Tina Goldstein, Credence.”<br/><br/>“I know,” Credence says. “I just wish people would give me the benefit of the doubt when it comes to my own feelings and emotional intelligence.”<br/><br/>Graves raises his eyebrows and smiles. “Fair enough,” he says. He wants to take that to heart himself, but he’s still wary. “Don’t worry about it for a few days, if you can help it. Enjoy that wand and prepare for Wilton to take you under his wing.”<br/><br/>Credence nods. “I’m not looking forward to telling him my story,” he says slowly, “but I think I really would enjoy my time there. It was nice, not being surrounded by the city, even if it was just for a few minutes.”<br/><br/>“I’m sure it was,” Graves says as he looks over Credence’s face, his heart aching the same way it’s been aching since he met him. “I’ll send him a letter, see if he’s open to meeting on Sunday morning.”<br/><br/>“Thank you, Percy,” Credence says with a smile. “Should I let you get back to work?”<br/><br/>“Probably,” Graves says. “But I wouldn't mind if you came over here and let me give you a few more minutes of my time.”<br/><br/>Credence’s cheeks flush red but he’s laughing. And he does come around to Graves’ side of the desk and they spend more than a few minutes there, and Graves tries not to think of love and all of its complexities.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>Wilton approves of meeting on Sunday - with quite a few comments about Graves’ personal growth, making appointments all by himself - and Graves doesn’t see Credence until then.<br/><br/>It’s a bit like torture, he thinks, and he tries to remember if he felt like this when he was in his twenties, the last time he ever tried to pursue something more meaningful with someone. He thinks he must have at some point, but that he also had time then and getting any time to himself these days is hard enough as it is.<br/><br/>Work keeps him busy. They don’t have as much to do out in the field, as most criminals have gone quiet after the mass raid. They’ll pick up again, as they always do, but he’s able to focus on getting everything ready for when Court proceedings will start in the spring.<br/><br/>He takes the entire day off on Sunday and picks Credence up a few minutes before eight at the Goldsteins’ apartment. Modesty doesn’t let him leave the apartment until he promises to take her to Wilton's farm at some point, which isn’t a hard promise to make. Tina and Queenie wish Credence the best of luck and they leave, going into the alley.<br/><br/>It’s not a frantic kiss the way it was before. Credence merely hugs him, tightly, and Graves returns the embrace, closing his eyes. He can feel Credence’s heart pounding against his own chest and smiles faintly.<br/><br/>“Nervous?”<br/><br/>Credence nods against him. “A bit,” he says quietly. “Excited, too, I think.”<br/><br/>Graves pulls back to look at Credence and smiles. “Good,” he says and kisses his cheek. “Ready?”<br/><br/>When Credence nods, Graves Disapparates out of the alley and to Wilton’s homestead. They walk across the barrier and toward the home. The pastures are still blanketed with snow and will be for some time yet, barring the one enchanted to behave like summer, and it certainly is a beautiful sight.<br/><br/>Graves hasn’t been out in the middle of nature in a long time himself. Skyscrapers are his preferred view these days but he can understand why Credence might like it out here.<br/><br/>Once Wilton’s house elf has fetched his master, Wilton appears with a grin, donning his walking stick and ushering them out to the pasture where most of the Hippogriffs are.<br/><br/>“What’s that wand like, my lad?”<br/><br/>“It’s thirteen and a half inches, sir, larch wood with a Thunderbird tail feather core. Reasonably pliable,” Credence answers in a rush, as if afraid if he takes his time he might be overwhelmed all over again.<br/><br/>“Is it really?” Wilton asks, deeply interested. “How extraordinary! Remarkable, really, that’s a wand most would like to have. I wonder what surprises it has in store for us.”<br/><br/>“Mister Jonker said I might be suited to Transfiguration.”<br/><br/>“Likely, likely. More likely that you’ll be suited to just about anything,” Wilton says with a chuckle. “Well, let’s take a look at the wand, and if you’re ready, you can tell me your story.”<br/><br/>They take off their coats and hang them over the fence as they step into the pasture. Graves pulls his own wand out and conjures a comfortable chair to sit in. Credence pauses when he sees him, frowning.<br/><br/>“It’s not my story,” Graves says with a smile and <em> accios </em> a book out of his coat pocket. “Go on. I’ll be right here.”<br/><br/>Credence looks nervous again but he nods and turns away, pulling out his wand and handing it to Wilton. They walk off and follow the pasture’s fence, as Credence begins his story, and Graves watches them go with a smile. He opens the book after a while and sets to reading, enjoying the sunshine, which warms his skin as much as the pride in his chest warms his heart.<br/><br/>Ironeye visits him at some point and Graves pats his beak and fends off his search for treats or dead mice, which Wilton always has in his pockets. “Go make friends with Credence, he’s good people,” he mutters.<br/><br/>Ironeye chirps a little in disappointment but he does trot off and Graves watches him as he approaches Wilton, who seems to be listening attentively to Credence as he speaks. Wilton hands Credence a mouse after he’s bowed to Ironeye and Graves smirks as he watches Credence awkwardly toss it to him.<br/><br/>The pasture is large and Credence’s story is a long tale, though Graves doesn’t think Credence will realize it until he’s done. He reads, only occasionally looking up to see where they are, and smiles to himself as he sees Ironeye trailing them.<br/><br/>After what must be two or so hours, Graves looks up as Wilton and Credence approach him. Credence’s eyes are red-rimmed, but there are no tear tracks on his cheeks, and he’s smiling. He looks relaxed, even, his shoulders loose, something content in his countenance.<br/><br/>“You have found a truly remarkable young man, Director,” Wilton says, more gentle than he usually is. “I would be honored to teach him and see him through his exams. I expect great things from him.”<br/><br/>“So do I,” Graves says and smiles as Credence wrinkles his nose, always embarrassed when people praise him. “Thank you, Wilton, we know there’s no one better.”<br/><br/>“No need to flatter me,” Wilton says with a wink. “However, I am approaching ninety soon - this spring, if you were wondering, invitations will go out soon - and I must say I’m not as quick as I used to be when it comes to Defense. Mister Barebone has informed me he is living with an Auror that might be able to teach him that subject instead.”<br/><br/>“That’s right,” Graves says. “Tina Goldstein. She passed her HAREs with flying colors.”<br/><br/>“Someone else I know did as well,” Wilton says as he raises his eyebrows.<br/><br/>Graves laughs. “I would,” he says as he smirks. “But I am extraordinarily busy.”<br/><br/>“Always so busy, isn’t he,” Wilton sighs as he looks at Credence. “You might be able to butter him up to it yet.”<br/><br/>Credence coughs a little. “I just might,” he says and smiles cheekily as Graves raises an eyebrow.<br/><br/>“Anyway,” Graves says pointedly. “When are you ready to start?”<br/><br/>“Next Monday, as far as I’m concerned! It would be good to get a few months of work in before breeding season,” Wilton says. “Ten to three, I think, for now, not so overwhelming. Take the week to gather supplies.” He peers at Graves. “Just the standard bits for now.”<br/><br/>Graves nods and stands, vanishing the chair. “Will do,” he says and holds his hand out to Wilton, who shakes it as enthusiastically as ever. “Appreciate it, Wilton.”<br/><br/>“It’s my pleasure, truly,” Wilton says with a smile as he shakes Credence’s hand as well. “The herds will enjoy having a new face around, as well, I think,” he adds, gesturing at Ironeye as he pokes his beak around Credence’s pockets.<br/><br/>Credence laughs and pats his beak until he gives up with another disappointed chirp, trotting away.<br/><br/>Graves watches him and knows that this will likely be the best gift he can give to Credence. He will come out of the next few years a changed man and Graves hopes, hopes beyond hope, that he will still be there to see it. That Credence continues choosing him, even as he changes, as life takes him down an entirely different path than the one he was on only months ago.<br/><br/>They say their farewells soon after that and Apparate back to Manhattan. Graves treats Credence to lunch in Dragon Street and helps him pick out some necessities while he has the time to do so. Tina and Queenie can help him get anything else he might need after he’s started with Wilton, but textbooks and Potions supplies are easy enough.<br/><br/>Graves takes Credence to his apartment after and sits on the sofa with him, watching him flip through the various textbooks with interest. He seems particularly fascinated with <em> One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi </em> and Graves answers any questions he has.<br/><br/>“Potions and Transfiguration,” Credence says after a while. “I think I’m eager for those more than anything.”<br/><br/>“Creation and change,” Graves says. “Not so surprising.”<br/><br/>Credence smiles as he glances at Graves. “Defense Against the Dark Arts was your favorite.”<br/><br/>“Not so surprising,” Graves repeats with a chuckle. “I almost never accept those that apply to my department if they didn’t receive an Outstanding on their HARE Defense exam.”<br/><br/>“What if they only Exceeded Expectations because they were nervous?”<br/><br/>Graves pats Credence’s thigh. “Precisely why I only accept Outstanding.”<br/><br/>Credence scoffs a little. “I’m already nervous to take the exams.”<br/><br/>“Those are a couple years away, love,” Graves laughs as he squeezes Credence’s thigh now. “Give it time. Wilton won’t let you take the exams if you aren’t confident.”<br/><br/>Credence is merely gazing at him, a soft smile on his lips, and shakes his head when Graves raises his eyebrows in question. “Nothing,” he says. “Just happy.”<br/><br/>Graves doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of hearing that. He kisses Credence then and keeps kissing him, until Credence begins asking him about Potions ingredients in between breaths and Graves gives up, turning back to the textbooks, amused and just a little bit in love.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>They get away with it for almost another week.<br/><br/>Graves knew it would happen soon, of course, and him leaving the office more than once a week for lunch is suspicious to his entire department. He just doesn’t give a shit.<br/><br/>He might have been hoping that Tina would bide her time, but you don’t become an Auror if tenacity isn’t a glaring personality trait.<br/><br/>Graves had taken Credence to a bar in Uptown that serves a variety of different foods, mostly known for the finger foods that have boomed in popularity in no-maj speakeasies. Wizarding establishments have gotten on board with it, with their own little twists on lobster canapés and devilled eggs and fruit cocktails.<br/><br/>It’s an interesting place and Credence is steadily getting used to the different restaurants and bars that Graves introduces him to. He’s even introduced Graves to a few no-maj establishments that he’s familiar with, but never had the opportunity to try. Graves isn’t fond of the lack of alcohol but seeing Credence’s happiness is what matters most to him.<br/><br/>Credence insists on walking with Graves back to MACUSA because the Goldstein apartment isn’t all that far away. It’s different, not something he’s used to, but he finds it all rather delightful.<br/><br/>“Do you think I can come over tomorrow night?” Credence asks as they cross the street. “It’d be nice to spend the evening with you before I start with Mister Lyre.”<br/><br/>“Sure,” Graves says. “I can order dinner on the way out of the office.” He looks up as they approach the revolving doors and sighs as he stops. “Well, maybe.”<br/><br/>Credence frowns as he looks at Graves, then follows his line of sight. “Oh,” he mutters, as he catches sight of Tina. “She doesn’t look happy.”<br/><br/>She’s leaning against the building near the doorman and watching them, her lips pursed and her arms crossed over her chest.<br/><br/>Graves smiles grimly. “She’ll get over it,” he says and gestures for Credence to follow him. They approach Tina and when she opens her mouth, Graves says, “I suggest you remember there’s a place for this and that it is not on the street.”<br/><br/>Tina sighs and nods. “Fine,” she says as she eyes him. But she says no more and they enter MACUSA.<br/><br/>It’s a silent ride on the lift to their department and Graves finds himself angrier than he thought he would be. He knows that’s not particularly fair, but he’s also annoyed that a junior Auror he’s fond of is about to give him a scolding like he’s half his age. But that’s the crux of it, of course, considering Credence nearly <em> is </em> half his age.<br/><br/>He strides into his office and behind his desk, where he feels like he has more command of the room, and once he’s waved his hand at the door to close and lock it, Tina turns a glare on him.<br/><br/>“What in the name of Deliverance Dane do you think you’re doing?” she demands.<br/><br/>Graves raises his eyebrows. “I don’t know, Tina. What do you think I’m doing?”<br/><br/>Tina scowls at him. “I don’t know, being irresponsible? I’m not blind to the way you two look at each other,” she says and shoots Credence a wary glance. “I didn’t think you’d actually <em> do </em> anything about it. But it’s obvious you both have. Not that I blame you for anything, Credence.”<br/><br/>“Tina,” Credence says quietly. “I’m as much of an adult as you and Mister Graves are.”<br/><br/>“Yes, you’re an adult, Credence, but that doesn’t mean your life experience is anything like it should have been by now,” Tina says. “You were completely sheltered from the real world <em> and </em> our world just two months ago. And you went through something extremely traumatic to begin with!”<br/><br/>“I think he remembers that, Tina,” Graves says flatly. “You know how far he’s come.”<br/><br/>“Far enough along to be in a relationship with a man nearly double his age?” Tina asks, her eyebrows raised high on her forehead. “I know you two got close quick, but Mister Graves, sir, this is too far.”<br/><br/>“Am I not allowed to make any of my own decisions?” Credence asks, his voice still soft, but there’s steel in it. Anger, too.<br/><br/>Tina sighs. “Of course you are, Credence, but sometimes we don’t always know what’s best for us. Especially after the sorts of things you went through.”<br/><br/>Credence frowns. “I think I know what makes me happy and what doesn’t at this point,” he says. “I know what it’s like to have pain cloud my judgment. It’s not here. Not in this.”<br/><br/>“I’m not worried about <em> your </em> judgment being clouded,” Tina says and shoots Graves a dirty look as he sits on the edge of his desk.<br/><br/>Graves wants to defend himself, of course, but there is that voice in the back of his mind, hissing at him that he knows Tina is right.<br/><br/>“I don’t know if you’re as concerned about Credence’s happiness as you should be, Mister Graves.”<br/><br/>Alright, now he’s just pissed.<br/><br/>“Excuse me?” he barks as he looks at her. “His happiness is all I’ve cared about since the day I met him.”<br/><br/>“You’re showing that in a very strange way!”<br/><br/>Graves scowls. “My life, Goldstein, my life for the last twenty fucking years, has been ensuring that I stay alive, that I do what I need to do for this department, and now, over the last seven years, that I do what I need to do to ensure all of my Aurors survival. That’s what I’ve known,” he says. “My life and my responsibilities changed the night I met Credence. I’ll continue doing what I do best, but if you think he isn’t on my mind every damn minute of the day, driving me to make sure all of those things keep happening in the way nothing else has before, then you have severely misjudged my character. Credence isn’t a small part of my life, he’s a very big piece of it and I take him into consideration for <em> everything </em> I do.”<br/><br/>Tina gapes at him, but he’s not done.<br/><br/>“His happiness is vital to me. His well being is vital to me. Him being given a little damn agency is vital to me,” Graves snaps. “Coddling him from the world and it’s real life experiences from real life, adult relationships and circumstances isn’t what I’m interested in. Credence deserves his own voice. Credence deserves to be able to choose, just like any other wizard his age.”<br/><br/>“But he’s <em> not </em> like any other wizard his age,” Tina says desperately. “He’s not, Mister Graves. He needs his Healer to help him cope, not someone who hasn’t been there.”<br/><br/>“He has been there,” Credence says and frowns again as he looks at Tina. “More than you know. My Healer helps me, but Mister Graves… Percy, he’s been where I have. And he’s got more experience than me in coping with it, yes, but that means he knows how to help me. He knows me and understands me better than anyone I’ve ever met. I trust him completely. I <em> choose </em> him completely. I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted for me, but I’m tired of not being able to choose. I know you’re only worried about me, Tina, but… please, worry about me while letting me take care of myself too.”<br/><br/>Tina watches Credence as he speaks, breathing in deeply. She glances at Graves when he’s done, then back at Credence. “I do want you to choose, Credence,” she says softly. “I do.” She sighs and bites her lip. “Queenie told me I can’t stop whatever it is that’s going on between you two but I suppose I didn’t realize it was so serious.”<br/><br/>“You could have asked,” Credence says, rather flatly.<br/><br/>Tina huffs a laugh. “I don’t think you understand how strange it is for me to ask how your relationship with my boss is going,” she mutters. “Look… I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I wasn’t letting you have your own voice. I’m <em> not </em> sorry and I’ll <em> never </em> be sorry for worrying about you and the intentions of people you choose to have in your life. Even if they’re someone I admire and trust myself.”<br/><br/>“Thanks,” Graves says with some dryness, even though he’s rather in agreement with her. “I do have the best intentions for us both.”<br/><br/>“Yeah? You gonna walk him down the aisle one day?” Tina asks with a tartness that’s unusual for her.<br/><br/>Graves frowns and points at her. “Wouldn’t it be you doing the walking?”<br/><br/>Credence giggles a little, like he can’t help it, and presses his knuckles against his mouth as Tina sighs and looks helplessly between them.<br/><br/>“Merlin’s balls,” she curses. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this. If this is what makes you happy, Credence… both of you, then fine. I support you. I just hope you know what you’re doing.” She narrows her eyes at Graves. “Queenie and I raised each other, you know, after our parents died. You see the underbelly of this city when you’ve got no parents to protect you from it.”<br/><br/>Graves raises his eyebrows. “Are you saying you know just the place to put me if I fuck up? Is this my first shovel talk?”<br/><br/>“Just sayin’ I know people, Mister Graves.”<br/><br/>Graves laughs, genuinely and thoroughly. “I think I know the same people,” he says and smirks as she rolls her eyes. “If I fuck up, I’ll bury myself, Goldstein. Satisfied?”<br/><br/>“No,” Tina says mulishly. “But I won’t give either of you a hard time about it.”<br/><br/>“Thank you,” Credence says meaningfully. “I’m sorry we didn’t talk to you about it sooner. And… and I hope, Tina, that you know how much it means to me, that you care about me.”<br/><br/>Tina smiles as she softens. “Oh, honey, I do,” she says. “I’ve never met someone as sweet and kind as you. Queenie and I just want the best for you. Even if it means we… <em> I </em> have to accept that Mister Graves is a part of that.”<br/><br/>“Don’t sound so happy about it, Tina,” Graves says as he sits down in his chair. “Appreciate it though.”<br/><br/>She gives him a bit of a look before she hugs Credence, squeezing him tightly and patting his cheek as she pulls away. “Let me know if you want some company when you go home,” she says and looks at Graves. “Mister Graves, sir.”<br/><br/>“Tina,” he says and watches as she leaves the office, closing the door behind her. He looks at Credence, who slumps against his desk and looks exhausted. “Alright?”<br/><br/>“Yes,” Credence says and pulls out the handkerchief to dab at sweat on his forehead. “Did that go alright?”<br/><br/>“I… think so,” Graves says. “She didn’t try to curse me anyway.” He smiles. “You were impressive.”<br/><br/>Credence shakes his head. “I was only honest,” he says and moves closer to Graves, until Graves moves his chair back and Credence sits on the desk in front of him. “Thank you.” He smiles. “For everything you said.”<br/><br/>“I meant it,” Graves says as he holds Credence’s hips. “You are very important to me, Credence.”<br/><br/>“You’re important to me too,” Credence says and runs his fingers through Graves’ hair. “Can I stay for a bit longer?”<br/><br/>“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>Credence stays with Graves on Sunday night. It seems only right to be the one to take him to Wilton’s for his first day of lessons. Neither of them sleep well, but it gives them the opportunity to talk late into the night, conversations that always seem more meaningful somehow.<br/><br/>Graves tells Credence how lessons usually go in a wizarding school and he sees the longing in Credence’s eyes, for what he never had, will never have completely, but hopes that he will enjoy his own experiences, make his own memories that are worthwhile.<br/><br/>He only eats toast in the morning and sips black coffee but beyond that, he seems to genuinely look forward to the day. So Graves drops him off at Wilton’s, kisses him and tells him he’ll be fine before he’s off to work.<br/><br/>Queenie or Tina will pick him up, as Graves is far too busy to leave at three in the afternoon, even if it pisses him off. But he does see Credence nearly every night to make up for it and listens to him talk about his day, more animated and chatty than he’s ever been before. Graves watches him fondly and despairs over the softening of his heart.<br/><br/>Sooner or later someone is going to accuse him of being a romantic.<br/><br/>After a week of lessons, Graves decides to devote some of his time to teaching Credence how to Apparate, so he doesn’t have to rely on anyone to get where he needs to go. They practice nightly and, after two weeks, Credence manages to do it on his own. He leaves his trousers behind and smacks Graves on the arm when he snickers, but it’s a good start.<br/><br/>But then, two weeks before the Quidditch World Cup, everything but Credence’s lessons with Wilton is put on hold. Graves has to visit the stadium every day, out in the foothills of California, where the weather will be balmy and ideal, and get familiar with its layout. He has had the plans in hand for months, making the few occasional visits himself over the last year, and his Aurors know where they are to be stationed, but he walks the stadium with them so they don’t run into any unexpected surprises, now that it has been fully constructed.<br/><br/>The wide, open spaces and rolling hills leave him feeling better about this World Cup than the last one he was a part of, surrounded by thick forests, security a nightmare.<br/><br/>He talks to the general security hired by Magical Games and Sports and ensures they are on the same page of who will be handling what, if any situation comes up, along with going over evacuation plans a few handful of times.<br/><br/>Graves is only thankful that it’s not his department that monitors the portkeys, but he does get Credence put on Wilton’s, because he doesn’t plan to be there himself until the stadium starts to fill, for a variety of safety reasons.<br/><br/>Criminals in New York are picking up their bad habits and he’d normally stay behind and monitor his own city, but he thinks he’s earned the right for a little pleasure himself.<br/><br/>Fontaine is perfectly capable of running the department for a night after all.<br/><br/>Graves takes Credence to Wilton’s shortly before nine in the morning and goes to MACUSA himself to clear up any loose ends.<br/><br/>He wants Credence to experience the World Cup the way most people do, but he wishes he could give him the entire experience of staying through the night and enjoying the celebrations after the game. Graves can’t make that sort of appearance, in the middle of all the chaos, and he doesn’t think Credence will enjoy it without him anyway. But having the entire day with Wilton and all the people Wilton knows - which is to say everyone - should be an interesting experience by itself.<br/><br/>The game isn’t until six, but Graves arrives via portkey at four and uses the officials-only entrance into the stadium. He can hear the roar of tens of thousands of people outside the stadium getting ready to be let in and visits Seraphina’s box, simply because he’s paranoid. Her own Aurors have already inspected the box but he does so himself until he’s satisfied.<br/><br/>He does the same thing in his own box as well and that’s when he sees Credence.<br/><br/>He’s not outside with the crowd, but down on the field far below, unmistakable next to Wilton Lyre and a few other witches and wizards, along with numerous referees. Graves smiles and makes his way out of the box and down to the field below.<br/><br/>“The Director himself has finally decided to grace us with his presence,” he hears Wilton boom once he’s on the field.<br/><br/>Graves smiles shortly as he approaches them. “Some of us have to worry about bigger things than who wins tonight,” he says, to the titters of those around. He winks at Credence, who looks overwhelmingly relieved to see him. “Missus Poults, what an honor.”<br/><br/>Missus Poults is a tall woman, her long, auburn hair tied tight in a braid, the way she’s worn it for as long as he’s known her. Easier to work with Hippogriffs, he knows. She’s dressed in high boots and rugged outdoor wear and smirks as she raises an eyebrow at Graves.<br/><br/>“Director Graves,” she says. “Wilton has been telling us how well Mister Barebone here is taking to his farm. A very bright young man.”<br/><br/>Credence looks a bit green and Graves decides that simply won’t do.<br/><br/>“All the beasts have taken a liking to him. Especially Ironeye,” Wilton says proudly and with a bit of smugness. “If that creature chooses to bow to anyone, they’re certainly worthy.”<br/><br/>“One might think he’s been told not to bow to those <em> you </em> choose not to be worthy,” Poults says dryly.<br/><br/>Graves glances at Credence and sees him grimace, as if this sort of talk has been happening for a while. “I’m afraid Mister Barebone and I are expected elsewhere,” he says and claps Wilton on the shoulder. “Thank you for showing him around the grounds.”<br/><br/>“My pleasure, of course,” Wilton says as he eyes Missus Poults for a moment more, then looks at Credence. “It’s alright, lad, to not remember everyone you’ve met today. I know there were a great many of them. Only the worthy do tend to stick…”<br/><br/>Graves leads Credence away before it can get a little too catty for his liking and walks with him to the officials’ tunnel, stopping at the entrance. “Are you alright?”<br/><br/>“I’m fine,” Credence sighs. “I am,” he says firmly when Graves raises an eyebrow. “It was going well until <em> higher society </em> started joining us an hour or so ago.”<br/><br/>“Sorry I wasn’t here earlier,” Graves chuckles. “I’m glad spending the day with Wilton didn’t bore you.”<br/><br/>“He’s never boring,” Credence says. “I met some members of the teams when they came to shake his hand. But he introduced me to… so many people, outside, from all over the world. I know the wizarding world is large, but it’s… it’s…” He gestures helplessly. “There are one hundred thousand people out there.”<br/><br/>Graves laughs. “There are,” he says. “My worst nightmare, but I’m glad you’ve enjoyed yourself. I hope he didn’t push you too much.”<br/><br/>“He didn’t,” Credence says and sounds a little surprised. “He always found a way to get me talking to someone who shares my interests. I’ve talked to professors from around the world and they didn’t ask me why I’m only just starting my education. They mostly gave me tips to make it a bit easier. I saw Mister Barrows and Miss Jauncey around lunch and they joined us. I didn’t think about it being spring holidays either, there are a lot of students here too. I met a few from Uganda. I never thought I’d meet anyone from Uganda, Percy.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles as he listens to Credence. He had worried it might be overwhelming, but Credence is speaking with an excitement he’s only recently seemed to have gained.<br/><br/>“The World Cup is the best way to meet witches and wizards from just about every culture,” Graves says. “Quidditch is our universal language. I’m glad you had a good time.”<br/><br/>“I just wish you had been here with me,” Credence says as he looks at Graves with a smile. “I thought you might have been exaggerating the security risk until I saw all of the camps.”<br/><br/>“Bit too recognizable of a face among all that,” Graves says and straightens Credence’s collar. “I’m yours for the rest of the evening.”<br/><br/>Credence smiles. “When do we have to get to the portkey?”<br/><br/>“Midnight,” Graves says. “Unless the game is still going, then two. I’m sorry we can’t stay through the morning.”<br/><br/>“Don’t be,” Credence says and gently touches Graves’ hand. “I understand. I think I’d rather be asleep than listening to thousands of people who have been drinking all day anyway.”<br/><br/>“Thank Merlin for that,” Graves says and they continue walking. He pulls out a pair of Omnioculars from his pocket and hands them to Credence. “You’ll need those.”<br/><br/>“Thank you,” Credence says with a grin. “I saw an advertisement for them outside.”<br/><br/>“We’ll have a good view, but slowing down the plays is more than worth it.”<br/><br/>Graves leads Credence through the stadium and to their box. Shortly after, the stadium doors are opened and people are let in in an organized flow, so there is no unnecessary stampeding. It’s the noise level that Graves has forgotten, when, less than an hour later, everyone has found their seats or boxes and the roar of one hundred thousand people takes over everything else.<br/><br/>Credence is staring out at the crowd, occasionally looking through the Omnioculars, but he holds Graves’ hand, now that they have the privacy to do so. Graves watches Credence more than he does the crowd but soon the mascots for the Fitchburg Finches zoom into the stadium, to immense applause.<br/><br/>There are thousands of small finches that fly in formation, changing shape occasionally, to that of a Quidditch player or a Golden Snitch, the crowd roaring with each display. There are a few rude gestures made toward the opposing team’s fans, the Wollongong Warriors, who boo loudly in return.<br/><br/>Credence grins at Graves and he smiles. “Always a bit of showing off before the game,” he says loudly, over the crowd.<br/><br/>The crowd gasps then, as the finches break formation and zoom across the stadium in all directions, and from their small beaks, they drop golden Sprink-sized seeds. They gleam, as small as they are, in the bright light of the stadium, and everyone, whether they are cheering for the Finches or not, scrambles to catch some of the golden seeds.<br/><br/>Credence reaches over the box and catches one. The moment it touches his skin, it transforms into a flag, with the Fitchburg Finches emblem on it, and steadily the crowd begins to fly them, while opposing fans toss them out onto the field.<br/><br/>Graves laughs at that show of indignation, as referees wave their wands to hastily clean the field, and he sees why a moment later.<br/><br/>The entire field below fills with water, like an overflowing well, to the oohs and ahhs of the crowd, only stopping when it’s a few feet high. Small, brown creatures appear from different directions, swimming swiftly through the water, as the finches fly together in formation high above, chirping angrily.<br/><br/>Credence looks through the Omnioculars. “They’re platypuses,” he says with a laugh. “With golden bills.”<br/><br/>Fans of the Finches don’t seem impressed by the platypuses graceful swimming until they all use a burst of speed and leap out of the water. They don’t dive back in, but rather swim through the air, twirling and beating their beaver-like tails, their bills shining brightly. They swoop low over the crowd occasionally and drop what seems to be eggs that appear in their webbed feet.<br/><br/>The eggs crack open above the crowd and release spectacular scarlet flowers to the gasps of everyone. The flowers float down, to be caught by fans of the Warriors, and Credence uses the Omnioculars to look at them.<br/><br/>“It says they’re the Waratah flower native to Australia.”<br/><br/>Graves reaches forward and catches one that’s floating in front of their box and hands it to Credence when he lowers the Omnioculars. It’s a large, unique flower, bright and showy and Credence takes it with another laugh.<br/><br/>The platypuses make another sweep over the crowd, dropping more eggs, as the finches fly in formation above them, shifting to make an unflattering image of a platypus.<br/><br/>A whistle is blown then and the platypuses dive back into the water and disappear, the water sinking back into the field, leaving it dried and pristine once it's gone. The finches fly out of the stadium and, with the booming voice of Arvid Ibex, head of MACUSA’s Magical Games and Sports department, Seraphina Picquery and Wilton Lyre’s presences are highly praised, and the teams are introduced, player by player.<br/><br/>Credence watches them all through his Omnioculars, which will show the statistics of each player, and Graves watches the board on one end of the stadium, which has blown up views of the different players and views around the stadium.<br/><br/>Once the Captains of the teams shake hands, the match is officially called into play.<br/><br/>It’s as exciting as it always is, much faster paced than any of the matches Graves attended at Ilvermorny. He’s been to the World Cup a few times, on business, except once in his youth when he had the time for watching a match. There are plenty of fouls, with booing and cheers to go along with them, and a few players break their noses when Bludgers are aimed at them.<br/><br/>Credence doesn’t pick a side and asks questions occasionally about the different moves, especially the Wollongong Shimmy, which never fails to distract opposing Chasers.<br/><br/>“Oh, leave the schoolboy antics out of it!” Graves yells at some point.<br/><br/>“What happened?” Credence asks breathlessly as he lowers the Omnioculars, which he seems to be debating using at all, as he loses sight of most of the action with them. “I didn’t see it.”<br/><br/>“Griffis grabbed Jurrah’s broom,” Graves scoffs. “Disgraceful.”<br/><br/>The crowd seems to agree, booing loudly, and Griffis is penalized, to the delight of the Warriors, who score extra points.<br/><br/>Despite that, the scores remain close, climbing higher and higher as the Golden Snitch evades the Seekers. They dive for it occasionally, arguably the most exciting part of the game, but it zooms out of reach.<br/><br/>It’s nearly four hours before the match is called. The Warriors Seeker makes a daring grab for the Snitch and just barely manages to grasp it in her hand, nearly falling off her broom, and Arvid Ibex shouts the closing of the match, to tremendous applause from the entire crowd, including Credence and Graves, who have been standing for the last half hour. Red and gold fireworks explode overhead, the colors of the team.<br/><br/>Credence doesn’t even flinch.<br/><br/>The Warriors gather high in the air, clapping each other on the backs, and holding up their Seeker’s arms, as she yells victoriously.<br/><br/>The platypuses return to the field, soaring through the air, darting in and out of the Warriors players.<br/><br/>“Amazing,” Credence says, his eyes bright and nearly feverish, and Graves laughs.<br/><br/>“It was, wasn’t it?”<br/><br/>“Thank you, Percy,” Credence says and leans closer, until Graves meets him and they share a short, but meaningful kiss. “Thank you so much.”<br/><br/>“It was my pleasure,” Graves says and looks out over the stadium.<br/><br/>Credence tucks the flag into his pocket and the flower into his collar, a sight Graves won’t be forgetting any time soon.<br/><br/>They stay in the box until the players leave the field, after congratulating each other, and manage to beat most of the crowd and slip into an officials’ corridor. There are numerous security teams and food vendors here and some occasionally give Graves and Credence a short nod.<br/><br/>“Wilton is likely to be surrounded by higher society for the rest of the night,” Graves says. “We can find him, but you may not enjoy it. I know I don’t.”<br/><br/>“No, thanks,” Credence says with a smile. “I’ve met enough people today. What are we going to do for the next hour and a half?”<br/><br/>“They’ll be setting off fireworks for the next hour,” Graves says. “We can find a place to watch them, if you’d like.”<br/><br/>Credence nods as they curve around a corner, but they come up short, because ahead of them is a small group, consisting of Seraphina Picquery and Arvid Ibex and Sera’s assortment of Aurors.<br/><br/>Seraphina raises her eyebrows once she catches sight of him. “Percy,” she says with a short smile. “I wondered if we might see you tonight. And…” She looks at Credence, eyeing him from head to toe. “It’s Mister Barebone, isn’t it?”<br/><br/>“Yes, Madam President,” Credence says quietly, rather paler than he was a moment ago.<br/><br/>“I see,” Sera says as she looks at Graves with the faintest bit of exasperation. “Wilton Lyre spoke of you at length tonight, though he failed to mention you were here,” she says to Credence. “You are very lucky to be taught by him.”<br/><br/>“Yes, ma’am,” Credence says. “I’ve learned quite a bit already. Um, and… thank you, for your help. With everything.”<br/><br/>Sera nods. “It’s the least we owe you.”<br/><br/>“Mister Lyre did make it difficult to commentate on the game as he went on and on about you, son,” Arvid Ibex says, not unkindly. “You have many friends in high places.” He looks at Graves. “Perhaps they can get tickets <em> on time </em> for the next World Cup.”<br/><br/>“What fun would that be?” Graves asks and smiles wryly. “See you in a couple days, Sera.”<br/><br/>“Percy,” she says with a faint smile. “Mister Barebone.”<br/><br/>“Ma’am,” Credence croaks.<br/><br/>They walk on and find a lift to take to the bottom of the stadium. Graves glances at Credence as he closes the doors. He laughs as Credence grimaces at him and squeezes his shoulder.<br/><br/>“She’s not as frightening as she might appear at first glance.”<br/><br/>“It’s the being talked about part that has me more concerned,” Credence mutters. “I didn’t know Mister Lyre was going to tell everyone he met tonight about me.”<br/><br/>“I can’t blame him,” Graves says and smiles as Credence huffs, his cheeks pink. “How about some privacy?”<br/><br/>“Yes, please,” Credence says. “Merlin, please.”<br/><br/>Graves laughs as they step off the lift and wander through more tunnels. He steps out of the west end of the stadium, which has been cordoned off from campsites for official personnel. They wander through a multitude of vendors restocking and a few groups of security.<br/><br/>“That better not be fucking alcohol, Hemlock,” Graves says as he spots his junior Auror sitting with a vendor, sipping on a glass of dark liquid.<br/><br/>Hemlock jumps a little and grimaces as he looks at Graves. “Yes, sir,” he says. “I mean, no, sir. I’m on my break. It’s just pomegranate juice, sir.”<br/><br/>“Get back to work,” Graves says briskly. “Stadium is emptying.”<br/><br/>“Yes, sir,” Hemlock says as he leaps up and abandons his drink, hurrying back toward the stadium.<br/><br/>Graves opens the gate that leads out to the rolling hills, lit by the bright lights of the stadium, and locks it once Credence has stepped out.<br/><br/>“Don’t you drink while working?” Credence asks dryly.<br/><br/>“That’s my Merlin given right as Director,” Graves says and smirks as Credence rolls his eyes. “Even I wouldn’t be drinking on the clock with one hundred thousand wands in one location.” He reaches into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulls out two miniature bottles. “But thankfully I’m not working.”<br/><br/>He enlarges the bottle of Pure Malt to its proper size, along with a bottle of butterbeer that he hands to Credence, who is shaking his head at him in vague disapproval.<br/><br/>They climb a hill and Graves conjures a blanket as fireworks continue to explode over the stadium, in a variety of different colors and shapes.<br/><br/>“If you need a muffling charm, let me know,” Graves says as they sit down.<br/><br/>“No, I’m alright,” Credence says as he looks up at the fireworks. “It’s different out here. Not in the city.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles as he opens the bottle and takes a drink. “Good,” he says and wraps an arm around Credence’s shoulders as he leans into him. “That was enjoyable. The last time I was at a World Cup, I had to leave halfway through to arrest twenty-seven people harassing no-majs that lived in a small town nearby.”<br/><br/>“That’s awful,” Credence says as he wrinkles his nose. “When was that?”<br/><br/>“Seven years ago,” Graves says. “I was in Sera’s box. Her first year as President and mine as Director. The Cup has been held in various different countries since then. Always exciting when it comes here,” he adds dryly.<br/><br/>“You’re probably the only one in America who isn’t excited when it’s here,” Credence says with amusement.<br/><br/>“Not the only one. Half my department shares my feelings about it.”<br/><br/>Credence smiles as he watches the fireworks. “I hope it’s not the only one we go to together.”<br/><br/>“We’ll see about next year,” Graves says. “It’s in France. Russia after that.”<br/><br/>“How does everyone travel internationally? Portkeys?”<br/><br/>“Mostly, yes, because it’s the safest way. And since they’re heavily monitored by each country, it’s a good way to keep track of who is coming and going.”<br/><br/>“The Floo Network can’t work across an ocean?”<br/><br/>Graves chuckles. “No,” he says. “When you see those glimpses of other fireplaces when you go by floo, that’s the network on the way to your destination. They can’t connect over an ocean.”<br/><br/>Credence frowns for a while. “There has yet to be one comfortable method of travel for wizards,” he declares. “At least no-majs have comfort in mind.”<br/><br/>“And abysmally slow travel times,” Graves says and takes another sip of whiskey. “I suppose there is a bit of a price to pay for instantaneous travel. You won’t think of it at some point.”<br/><br/>“I’m not sure I’ll ever forget I can splinch myself in half when Apparating,” Credence mutters.<br/><br/>“That’s why you left your trousers behind,” Graves says and dodges Credence’s elbow. “You have to be <em> determined </em> to not leave them behind.”<br/><br/>“It’s easy for you to be brimming with confidence,” Credence says. “You were born that way. Some of us worry about danger.”<br/><br/>“Just because I enjoy danger doesn’t mean I don’t worry about it.”<br/><br/>Credence smiles in amusement at him and shakes his head as he looks back at the fireworks. They watch them for a while, the roar of many thousands of voices between each bang a distant hum from the top of the hill.<br/><br/>“Percy?”<br/><br/>“Hmm?”<br/><br/>“When we get back to the apartment tonight…” Credence trails off, biting his lip, before he looks at Graves. “Will you make love to me?”<br/><br/>Graves is only glad he doesn’t have any Pure Malt in his throat. He sets the bottle aside anyway and looks at Credence. Credence doesn’t look away, doesn’t shy away from his request, only looks back determinedly.<br/><br/>“If you’re sure,” Graves says quietly. “If you’re ready.”<br/><br/>Credence raises an eyebrow. “I’m very sure,” he says. “And I’ve been ready.”<br/><br/>Graves frowns. “Oh,” he says in confusion. “Why haven’t—”<br/><br/>“I’ve been waiting for <em> you </em> to be ready,” Credence says with a faint smile. “I think you are now.”<br/><br/>Graves blinks at him before he laughs, rather helplessly. “You’ve been spending too much time with Queenie,” he says. “It would normally worry me, someone reading me so well.” He smiles. “You do seem to have a natural talent for it.”<br/><br/>“You’re not worried though?” Credence asks with a hint of concern.<br/><br/>“No,” Graves answers honestly, because he couldn’t lie to Credence even if he wanted to. “No, I’m not.” He leans in and kisses Credence’s forehead. “And I am ready.”<br/><br/>“You won’t fall asleep, will you?”<br/><br/>“It <em> is </em> going to be two in the morning when we get home…”<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>The first <em> I love you </em> is sighed that night, soft against his shoulder as they move together, and Graves whispers it in return and knows it is only the beginning.<br/><br/>Things don’t necessarily slow down after that, but a routine is developed, so unlike anything Graves has ever known. Work is work, always busy, but once the trials start at the beginning of spring, he has a fairly normal schedule for a while.<br/><br/>Credence is hard at work, spending five days out of the week at Wilton’s, breezing through his lessons with very little difficulty. Care of Magical Creatures is an elective, but Wilton enlists Credence’s aid during Hippogriff breeding season and teaches him about other magical creatures during it, so he might earn that O on his HARE exam as well. Credence has a natural way with the Hippogriffs, who enjoy his presence, as do the Thestrals. He hadn’t seemed surprised when he learned only those who had witnessed death could see them - it only seemed to increase his fondness for them.<br/><br/>He is well suited to everything, as Wilton and Graves had expected, but he’s most interested in Potions and Transfiguration, as Credence himself had expected. His wand brings out his natural talents and makes nearly everything look easy. Everything except Defense, which Graves notes dryly is not how he would have chosen for it to go. Credence is powerful but he’s more reluctant in that subject and it’s not hard to pinpoint why.<br/><br/>When Graves tells him Mary Lou Barebone has been successfully entered into a women’s penitentiary, he only nods and thanks him, and her name is rarely uttered after that.<br/><br/>Some nights Credence has nightmares. Some days he sheds tears as he remembers. But they’re becoming few and far between, as summer moves on, as he spends more time with Graves. He stays at the apartment a few nights a week, but still officially lives with the Goldsteins, who aid him with homework, who take care of his sister.<br/><br/>Modesty is as bright as her brother, Graves comes to know, when he begins to spend more time with her. They take her to <em> Lyre’s Farms </em> and watch her fly on Windwing’s back or run through the pasture with young Hippogriffs. Credence says that he always thought she was shy, but being away from the church, from her mother, she has blossomed into a joyful young girl, a story always on the tip of her tongue, quick to laugh and bond with just about anyone she meets.<br/><br/>Graves takes her to lunch now and then so Queenie can have a moment to herself and they have <em> very serious </em> conversations about his and Credence’s relationship. She’s happy for Credence and she tells Graves she’s happy for him too.<br/><br/>When they’re on the farm one sunny day and one of the younger Hippogriffs begins to fight with another, with Modesty too close, and Graves not able to reach her in time, she receives a rough kick to her chest that knocks her back in such a violent way Graves is sure he’ll never recover from it. But when they get to her, when Graves has his wand out to heal her, she merely blinks and winces through a smile and declares that she’s alright.<br/><br/>The nasty bruise on her chest fades before their eyes and Modesty returns to the older Hippogriffs to let the colts figure themselves out.<br/><br/>Graves, Credence and Wilton share long looks and a few relieved laughs and Graves doesn’t know why he’s surprised. They had looked for magical blood the night he took them out of the church and found none, but she had been abused, her magic as repressed as Credence’s, and from that day on, it blooms out of her.<br/><br/>As summer steadily comes to a close and the trials end, cases begin to pile up on Graves’ desk again. He doesn’t let it get the way it always has because he’s got more than work to care about these days. His days get longer but he still gets home in time for dinner. In time to hear about Credence’s day, the adventure that it always seems to be.<br/><br/>Credence moves in with him not long after that, with Queenie and Tina’s blessing, though she grimaces a little as she gives it. He sees Modesty often enough, but on the days he doesn’t, Lionel, filled out now and handsome, happily carries letters between them.<br/><br/>Graves goes out into the field more often as the months begin to turn cool and whenever he dives into the unknown, as he so often does, the compass, always in his pocket, tells him when he’s going the wrong way and he turns, turns back toward Credence, and saves them from any heartbreak, whether it be permanent or not.<br/><br/>Christmas arrives once again and Graves looks at Credence, his hair shorter and his spine straighter, confidence steadily building in him, in every aspect of his life. He’s changing every day, growing into the person he was meant to be, and Graves watches him, a fierce pride burning in his chest, and the love he feels for him strengthens, becomes unbreakable.<br/><br/>They go to France the next summer, Graves and Credence and Modesty, Tina and Queenie, and watch the Quidditch World Cup and meet the Minister and various other important witches and wizards. Credence isn’t as overwhelmed by it anymore and he holds his own in conversation, steadily getting used to fielding questions about his unusual past, so Graves doesn’t have to do it for him.<br/><br/>France will be one of many places they visit, but it becomes special to them, the first place they’ve gone where no one really recognizes Graves, even in the wizarding world, where they’re free to walk hand in hand and explore the French wizarding culture.<br/><br/>By that winter, Wilton declares that Credence is ready to take his exams. He’s nervous, of course, every young person is when it comes to their exams, and Graves gets precisely no work done on the days that Credence comes into MACUSA and takes them.<br/><br/>Of course, he passes all of them with ease, even his Defense exam (that Graves had thoroughly explored with him over the last few weeks), though he sighs when he presents Graves with an <em> EE. </em><br/><br/>“All my dreams of being an Auror, down the drain,” he says, as he sits on Graves’ desk.<br/><br/>“Thank fuck for that,” Graves says and kisses him, kisses him until it becomes more and Credence has to leave through the fireplace in his office.<br/><br/>They celebrate with Tina, Queenie and Modesty later that night, with champagne and cheesecake and laughter and quite a lot of tears on the girls’ part, who have watched Credence on his journey just as much as Graves has.<br/><br/>Credence explores his many different options for a career and the various offers he gets, because Wilton and Graves have not let anyone forget Credence Barebone, but he doesn’t seem to be called to any of them.<br/><br/>Graves is worried about it when spring comes, as Credence’s drive seems to be lessened now that he's a fully qualified wizard, but he doesn’t know how to ask what it is that’s holding him back.<br/><br/>He’s sitting on Wilton’s back porch, resting his arm on the table between them and listening to him list all of the witches and wizards he will be inviting to his ninety-second birthday party, as he watches Credence toss chunks of meat to the Thestrals, to their delight. The youngest wrap their wings around his legs and take great pleasure in the scratches he gives them, under their chins.<br/><br/>“I’ve figured your man out,” Wilton says after a while.<br/><br/>Graves looks at him from over his glass of whiskey. “Oh? Just now?” he asks with a smirk.<br/><br/>“I was waiting to see if I was right,” Wilton says. “And of course I was. His heart belongs here, Director, not out in the city. Not in MACUSA, not in a shop or classroom, but <em> here.” </em><br/><br/>Graves raises his eyebrows. “You want to employ him full time as your hand?”<br/><br/>“No,” Wilton says with a soft smile as he gazes at Credence. “I’d like to give him the farm.”<br/><br/>“You— what now?” Graves asks as he gapes. “What do you mean <em> give </em> it to him?”<br/><br/>“He’s got a natural way with all of them. He’s got a soft heart, the way you should, if you work with these creatures. Soft and loyal,” Wilton says with a distant smile. “And he’ll be using every skill I’ve taught him out here, Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, all of it.” He looks up at the sky, still smiling. “I’d like to travel more. I suspect I only have a decade or so left and the last twenty-five years building this up has cemented my name in the business. <em> Lyre’s Farms </em> will always be sought out, so I’d only ask that he keep the name, to help him. I’d come now and then, make sure he’s doing alright, but I’d be fine with anything he chose to do here.”<br/><br/>Graves watches Wilton and sips on the whiskey. He looks out at Credence, laughing as a Thestral nudges around his pockets, looking for more meat, now that the bucket is empty. The Hippogriffs, on the other side of the fence, are watching on with jealousy as they await Credence themselves, knowing better than to crowd the Thestrals.<br/><br/>“Have you spoken to him about it?”<br/><br/>“Not yet,” Wilton says. “But I’ve drawn up a new will.”<br/><br/>“You’re putting him in your will?”<br/><br/>“You know I don’t have any children to give anything to. Why not give it all to him? A truly remarkable young man, as I told you once before, and I trust him with this. I trust that he would be happy with it.”<br/><br/>Graves sighs and smiles helplessly. “Talk to him and make sure it’s what he wants before you tell him about the will. Save him from some panic,” he says. He finishes his whiskey. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to a different view.”<br/><br/>“Keep the apartment,” Wilton says with a wink. “It’s never a bad idea to have two views. Who knows, you may find you like being in nature after so long without it, Director.”<br/><br/>Graves leans back in his chair and looks around. It’s beautiful, always an incredible sight, whether it is spring, summer, fall or winter. His heart feels calm when he comes here with Credence and he looks over his shoulder less than when he’s out in the city. And, well… he is used to living in nature, despite not having done it for over twenty years now.<br/><br/>The woods are a familiar place, but these woods are so different from those that surrounded the Graves family manor, dark and unpleasant and always suffocating. They are open here, airy and bright.<br/><br/>“I think I could get used to it again,” Graves says and smiles as he holds his hand out to Wilton.<br/><br/>Wilton shakes it, patting it with his free hand. “You’ve come a long way yourself, young man, from the first moment I met you in Ilvermorny.”<br/><br/>Graves chuckles. “Everything went precisely as I expected it to, you know,” he says. “The way I told you it would when you gave me that <em> O </em> on my Defense exam.”</p><p>“Hmm, yes,” Wilton agrees. “And yet, I seem to remember telling you to expect the unexpected in life, because you can never choose every turn it will take.”<br/><br/>“You did,” Graves says and smiles as he watches Credence leave the Thestrals’ pasture and begin the walk up to the manor. “Wise words.”<br/><br/>“My words are always wise, my boy.”<br/><br/>Graves can only nod in agreement and smile at Credence as he walks up the stone pathway to the porch, shielding his eyes from the sun. He <em> is </em> happy here, Graves thinks, and he knew he was, but maybe he hadn’t realized the extent of it. Credence is at peace here and that’s all Graves has ever wanted for him.<br/><br/>“What?” Credence asks suspiciously as he looks between Wilton and Graves, who are both watching him with fondness, of different kinds.<br/><br/>“Just two old men reminiscing about youth,” Wilton says as he stands and claps Credence on the shoulder. “Well done today, my lad.”<br/><br/>He walks off, his walking stick in hand, and Credence sits down, raising his eyebrows at Graves. “He called you old again.”<br/><br/>“It’s going to be true this year, you know,” Graves says dryly. “I’ll no longer be able to claim I’m in my wild thirties.”<br/><br/>Credence laughs. “And I still have trouble keeping up with you anyway,” he says and smiles. “What were you really talking about?”<br/><br/>Graves smiles. “The future and what it might hold for all of us,” he says. “Wilton will talk more about it with you.” Credence peers at him for a while before he nods his acceptance. “This would be a nice venue to get married at, wouldn’t it?”<br/><br/>Credence raises his eyebrows and Graves gestures.<br/><br/>“Spring or fall. I lean toward fall, when the trees are changing but the ground isn’t frozen yet. Big enough to host a crowd, inside and out.”<br/><br/>Credence rests his elbow on the table and gazes at Graves with a smile. “Whose wedding are you planning?”<br/><br/>Graves shrugs as he looks at him. “Well, there is a young man I know. Big romantic, drags me to see the worst no-maj picture shows imaginable, and talks about marriage now and then, somehow always right when I happen to be trying to drink something. He seems fond of spending the rest of his life with me and I feel the same way about him,” he says. “Happens to be fond of this place too.” He shrugs. “But if I’ve read him all wrong…”<br/><br/>Credence’s eyes are bright as he smiles, wide and achingly beautiful, staring at Graves the way he does, the way Graves will carry with him forever, no matter where he is. He stands and moves around to Graves, climbing gingerly onto his lap, taking Graves’ face in hand and kissing him, with passion and love, and Graves will carry this with him forever too.<br/><br/>When Credence finally pulls back, his eyes are soft and warm, and he’s still smiling. “I think you’ve read him just right,” he says. “You always do read me just right, Percy.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles as he runs his hands along Credence’s back and gazes up at him. “Then what do you say, love?” he asks. “Will you marry me?”<br/><br/>There are tears in Credence’s eyes and he laughs, carefree and happy. “I will,” he says and kisses Graves again, sweetly. “You do keep telling me Wilton hosts the best parties.”<br/><br/>“He does,” Graves says. “Always memorable.”<br/><br/>“I think this one will be memorable all on its own,” Credence says softly. “Because I’ve got you.”<br/><br/>Graves can do nothing more than kiss him again, kiss him until they’re breathless, kiss him until they’re laughing. And they don’t stop until Wilton shouts for them to help him out in the pasture.<br/><br/>And they will get married there in that same pasture, when the time comes, and Wilton will give the farm to Credence as his wedding gift and life after will be… good. Good in the way neither of them thought possible for themselves once upon a time, good in the way they’ll always be thankful for, good in the way they’ll always fight for.<br/><br/>Healing is not a straight line, it zigs and zags and circles back to the beginning when you least expect it, but it <em> is </em> healing and as the hurt fades away, replaced by comfort and love, the warmth of the sun, well, then… just then, you find exactly where you belong.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Now I'm gonna focus on some different AUs that I'm pretty excited about. :) I hope you enjoyed this! Comments and kudos mean a lot!!</p><p>Thanks, as always, for the love and support, <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/angelsallfire">Erin</a>!</p><p>And thank you, Mom, for all of your love and support and reading my WIPs too! &lt;3</p><p>
  <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vtforpedro">Tumblr</a>
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